No Church in the Wild
by LostMyPen
Summary: Turns out, Voldemort had a backup plan in case the Horcruxes and Elder Wand weren't enough. Complicating things further, circumstances lead to the Trio and Draco Malfoy being (begrudgingly) forced to coexist while on the journey to defeat Voldemort for good. This is Deathly Hallows, revisited- some things change while others stay the same. Contains mature themes/violence. No slash.
1. Pompeii

**This story begins in the middle of summer before Harry Potter started his Horcrux search, at the same point where the Deathly Hallows began.**

Action/adventure/drama with focus on Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. No slash, canon pairings.

Some mature themes and graphic violence.

_Full cover image available for viewing at kitakatzz dot livejournal dot com  
_

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**_Pompeii_**

The door to the study opened with a bang, startling Narcissa badly.

She stared down at her lap, where her dropped teacup was now laying, the brown liquid soaking into her silk robes.

Draco had fared better, sitting across from her with a clear view of the door, still holding his own tea. "What is it father?"

Lucius Malfoy looked down at his wife's back, addressing her, as if she'd been the one who'd asked the question. "He wants you."

Once again, Draco spoke, "Why?"

Ignoring his son: "Now."

Draco stood. "What does he want?"

"Mind your tongue," Lucius hissed, only now sparing him a look, "he wants your mother. And he wants her now."

Narcissa looked up at her son, seeing how he paled in front of her eyes.

"He's not going to… I mean, the other woman, she _died_-"

With real fear in Lucius' voice: "Boy, watch what you say or so help me-"

Narcissa finally scooped up the teacup, setting it carefully on the table before standing and facing her husband. He too, had paled considerably, but he had none of the shakes that Draco now suffered from, going up and down his arms to the cup he still grasped, knuckles whitened.

"Where is he?" she asked.

Lucius pursed his lips before answering. "Master bedroom."

She felt her stomach twist, her heart beat faster. But neither showed on her face.

"Mother…"

"I look forward to our next teatime Draco," Narcissa said cutting off whatever he was going to say, putting a calming hand on his wrist as she briefly looked up into his beseeching eyes.

Then she allowed Lucius to lead her from the room.

* * *

"Is he going to kill her?"

Severus Snape glanced up at the voice, looking away from his bubbling cauldrons of potions and unrolled scrolls. It had been many weeks since the younger Malfoy had graced the dungeon area of the Malfoy Manor. There wasn't much reason for him to visit, as it had become Snape's domain. It was where he'd been practically banished by Voldemort, ordered to find a solution to the Dark Lord's problem.

But Severus wasn't surprised to see Draco standing in front of him. Now that his mother had been visiting Voldemort for the last week, Severus had no doubt she'd let it slip to the boy that she drank a potion before every… session. Perhaps she'd even sent her son down here herself, no doubt wondering, with a bit of horror, he thought, what it was that Voldemort was making her ingest.

Snape turned back to his cauldron, stirring it carefully. "Not if I made the potion correctly, no."

"What about the other woman? That- that Terwyn Wilkes?" Draco stood on the other side of the table now, hands placed on top in fists. "She died after two weeks!"

Snape acknowledged this with a small tilt of his head, "I've changed a few ingredients since. It's been modified. Utilized a few different techniques-"

"That's it?!" he snapped, "You _changed a few ingredients_?" Then he completely lost it, grabbing a handful of Snape's empty beakers, hurling them at the wall where they shattered. "That's all you have to say?! He's going to kill her by doing this! R-rape her and kill her! Don't you care-"

Snape pulled out his wand, ignoring the fact that Draco reciprocated almost immediately, instead aiming at the door the younger man had entered through, slamming it shut with a wordless spell.

"You fool," Snape said quietly into the silence, "did you even think of putting up a Silencing charm before throwing your little fit?"

Draco glanced at the door, breathing hard, but still held the wand pointed at Snape's chest. He clenched his teeth. "I don't care."

"That's your problem Draco, always so short-sighted."

Eventually, Draco lowered his wand, staring down at the cauldron. "Did you fix the potion or not?"

Snape regarded him. Saw the high points of color on each cheek, the tremors of rage still going through his wand hand. "I believe so, Draco. But it's an ancient and extremely complicated magic that the Dark Lord is attempting... You have to be prepared for the worst."

The younger man shook his head. "I can't lose her."

The cauldron started bubbling between them, loud in the silence. The color changing from a deep purple to an even darker black. Snape had no answer.

* * *

Despite having called Draco Malfoy a fool, Snape knew it was actually himself who was the one acting with thoughtlessness. In fact, if the Dark Lord found out, it was most certainly suicidal.

But he was doing it anyway.

CRACK

Unkempt meadow grass bent slightly in a light breeze, reaching his knees.

He turned his head, scanning the hillside of the field where he stood… ah. There it was. Illuminated by the moon, a leaning house, with far too many rooms stacked upon each other. Both chimneys pumping out smoke as he watched, most of the lights of the house burning brightly in the windows. The Weasley's Burrow.

Just far enough away from it to feel their invisible wards, crackling dangerously, but not to set any off. Hopefully close enough to reach the mind of the one he needed.

Snape focused his magic; attempting Legilimency from this distance was difficult but not impossible. Especially if the recipient didn't have any shields, which he knew Hermione Granger did not.

He slipped through the wards carefully, just a small mental thread, feeling its way into the house. It didn't take long to locate Granger, resting on a chair surrounded by the Weasley family, full from dinner, content with the company. When Snape recognized that Potter, too, was in the room, he almost jerked himself back, too quickly, which might have alerted some of the Aurors stationed inside to his presence. But he controlled the urge, instead delving deeper into Granger's thoughts.

Now came the difficult part. The influence of thought. It was a hard skill to develop, not exactly Imperius, not exactly Occlumency, a different kind of magic, that if the Dark Lord knew he could and had used on him, he'd have ripped the flesh from his bones.

_Perhaps after such a filling dinner, I should go outside... some fresh air... look at the stars_… he supplied carefully to Granger.

_Ye__s__, that sounds __rather __nice, _she agreed almost immediately. She had no idea that the thought had not originated from her. _And Ron too. And maybe Harry'll want to try his broom he hasn't been on that in forever, he's so depressed_-

With an annoyed curl of the lip, Snape stopped her, _actually__, it would be nice to be alone wouldn't it? This house is always so crowded, I should take a minute to myself._

_Yes, maybe it would be nice to be alone…_

Snape didn't feel she needed any more convincing than that. He'd wait. And indeed, he felt her slowly come to the conclusion that she should go outside. She took her time actually leaving though, finishing her conversations, saying where she was going to the others, explaining she wanted to be alone for a bit when they asked if she wanted company, stopping by in the kitchen for another tart.

Snape felt his hand tighten impatiently on his wand.

Finally, Granger opened the back door and stepped outside.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Snape sent out his spell, "_Imperio_!"

The wards around the house immediately went off, he felt them vibrating in front of him, fireworks shooting off into the sky. He knew everyone in the house was scrambling, trying to figure out what was going on. More Aurors were already Apparating inside.

But they were going to be too late. Hermione had no chance on fighting him off, and Snape easily assumed control. "Run this way," he ordered through their mental link, "quickly."

Snape watched the house as Granger followed his command. And finally someone had enough thought to go after Hermione, and the door burst open. None other than Harry Potter of course. His eyes immediately fell on her, who had just reached the awaiting Snape.

Severus stared at the boy, filled with hate; it was the first time he'd seen him since that fateful night he'd had to kill Dumbledore. But Snape was wearing his Death Eater mask and Potter was none the wiser.

"_EXPELLIAR_-"

Snape snatched Hermione's arm and Apparated away before Potter could even finish the spell.

* * *

Narcissa's hands clenched onto the bed sheets, sweat dripping from her forehead, tears from her eyes. She bit her lip, pulling it between her teeth until she'd torn a bit off. She screamed.

The evil on top of her performed a silencing spell without lifting a finger, without lifting a wand, continuing his rhythm.

This was the most painful it had ever been. _Why, _she wondered madly. _why why why why why_? She screamed again, sobbing now.

It continued.

* * *

Granger was still holding that damn tart. Snape knocked it from her hand. "Go sit in that chair."

She did, and though Snape felt a small amount of struggle, he easily held it under his control.

Waving his wand, numerous ropes appeared across his captives wrists and ankles, around her waist. Tightening until he waved his wand again. Good. He doubled checked his wards around the little shack they were now in. Good. Made sure his mask was in place. The potion he'd used to change his voice was still working.

He released her from the Imperius curse.

Granger's passive face immediately turned to frightened anxiety. "What do you want-"

"The Dark Lord has a new plan that will destroy the Wizarding world as we know it. Muggles will stand no chance against this magic."

Granger blinked up at him, struggling to process and not let her fright stupefy her. "W-why would a Death Eater tell me this? Why should I believe-"

"I'm sure you're aware that the Order has some Death Eaters working with them?" he answered blandly, unimpressed. Although he wasn't technically in the Order's service anymore, he knew he needed their assistance.

"Yes but- well, don't you have better ways to communicate with them?"

"The Dark Lord has many eyes looking out for him. Triple spies. Now do you want to keep quibbling and wasting time, or do you want to know what the Dark Lord has planned?"

"Can't you release my ropes, at least?"

He ignored her. "He's attempting to sire a child."

She immediately stopped struggling, looking up at him with a mix of suspicion, horror and disgust. "He is? Can he even do that?"

"He's found an ancient and very dark magic that seems to coincide with the idea. It makes many among us believe it might be possible. He has failed on a previous attempt, but so far his most recent endeavor seems to be… successful."

"But... but how would this, as you said, 'destroy the world'?"

"It's not the siring of the child, it's what he plans to do with the child. He needs to sacrifice it for a spell that would grant him almost unlimited power."

"What kind of spell is this?" she demanded, eyebrows climbing, "I've never heard of it."

"It's not something one would find in the restricted section at Hogwarts." Snape bit out impatiently. He'd chosen Granger to be the recipient of this message because he'd hoped she'd be the least likely to stop him with stupid questions or pointless threats. He didn't have time for them.

"I've read a lot of books-" she started defensively. Foolishly.

"The Dark Lord has traveled the world, searching for and interrogating, _torturing_, wizards and witches to discover dark magic such as this. He has spent years assimilating and deciphering all that information. Do you understand the gravity of the situation? The successful sacrifice of a male child of his own seed in this ritual spell would grant him back his own body; grant him powers you and I have never even dreamed of." He paused here, surveying her, before finally adding, "Your parents wouldn't stand a chance, in Australia or anywhere else."

She paled, setting her mouth angrily.

"It would be wise to polish up on your Occlumency shields."

"I…" She looked as if she literally was going to be sick for a moment. Then, with an abruptness that surprised him, her face cleared, and she looked up at him grimly. "Okay, what else do you know? What's your plan? What do you want us to do?"

His left forearm started its warning tingle. No doubt Voldemort had just been told a lone Death Eater had attacked the Burrow and kidnapped an Order member. Someone would be paying with their life tonight. Hopefully the precautions he took would make sure it wasn't him.

He waved an arm, and immediately the ropes holding the Granger girl fell away. "Once I Apparate, my wards will drop and you will be able to as well. I don't suppose I need to tell you to share what I said to only those you trust in the utmost?"

"Wait, you didn't tell me enough. I need to know-"

CRACK

* * *

She spent all her time recovering now, Draco reflected darkly. Her life was spent in two beds. The one with Voldemort and the one in her own bedroom.

He watched as the Imperiused medi-witch put another cool washcloth on his mother's face. She moaned in response, leaning into it. How he hated this.

"Draco."

"M-my Lord!" he stuttered in surprise, turning from the bed. The tall, pale figure of Voldemort stood in the shadowed doorway behind him. His blood ran cold at the sight. At the last possible second before it would have been imprudent, he remembered to bow.

Voldemort stared down at him, his slit eyes contracting. "Draco, why aren't you with the others preparing for the raid?"

"I'm- I just wanted to check on mother first, but I'm … I'm going there right now, actually," he said quickly, straightening.

"Very well." Voldemort said, and then turned his eyes to his mother, taking in the view of her blonde hair spread over the pillows, nightgown sticking to the sweat on her body.

Draco stared at him, feeling a violent heat rise from deep inside him. A rage he could barely restrain, but would never dare express.

"Oh, but you think I can't feel that, Draco?" Voldemort asked softly, dangerously, though his penetrating gaze didn't move from Narcissa. "And that you dare look at me so? Your aunt Bellatrix might have taught you how to block yourself from others, but not me. Never me."

Draco blanched, struggling to get himself under control, glancing away immediately. Most of his anger now washed away by abject terror at the soft words. "I'm sorry my Lord, I didn't mean… I forgot myself."

"You know, if you hadn't been with me in the hall at the time when we were betrayed by Krimbooth, I might have suspected you, Draco."

Draco remembered, three weeks ago, Remmy Krimbooth had gone and kidnapped Hermione Granger, and through his network of spies, the Dark Lord had found out about it almost immediately. His heart skipped a few beats imagining himself going through what Krimbooth had when Voldemort found him out.

Krimbooth's screams had been heard all throughout the Manor, amplified magically and lasting for hours. Voldemort had made all the Death Eaters parade past him at the end. The man had been left with no eyes. His legs had been nubs.

"I'm sorry, my Lord." Draco said again, desperately.

"Go," Voldemort answered, walking around the length of the bed, "I want to be alone with your mother."

He fled from the room.

* * *

Shrouded in night though they were, the Muggle town would surely see them on such a clear evening, riding through the sky, and they didn't want that happening too early. So they landed, and walked. Draco ended up beside his father at the end of the pack, each carrying their own brooms.

Lucius double-checked that there was a good amount of distance between them and the next closest Death Eaters, before leaning just a little bit closer to him. "You had a run-in with him?"

The younger man shook himself out of whatever reverie he'd been in, looking surprised that his father had actually addressed him. He nodded.

"I will only warn you once. Stay away from your mother, Draco," Lucius said in a hushed voice.

Draco stopped short, staring at him. "What? Why?"

"Keep walking. It's too late for her. He has bigger plans than you can ever conceive. If your mother had her faculties left, and if she knew how close you came to getting yourself killed last night, she'd be saying the same thing." He started walking faster at this point, not wanting to draw attention, saying one last time, over his shoulder, "Stay away."

* * *

Narcissa stared at the butter knife, lying by the biscuit tray.

She felt like this was the first time she'd been lucid in a while. It was like breaking from a sea of molasses, and she could feel it trying to pull her back under, telling her to rest her head on the pillow. Close her eyes. Drift off.

But she wanted that knife.

She let her head fall to the other side of the pillow. The medi-witch was still there with her, staring at nothing with deadened eyes.

"Get the knife for me," she demanded, feeling her words slur together as they left her mouth.

The medi-witch didn't even acknowledge her.

There was a noise to her right, a clearing of the throat. She turned her head, expecting her son, instead, she saw the sallow-skinned Severus Snape. She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"I see my potion brought you around," he said softly, coming closer and sitting in an abandoned chair to her right.

"Yes," was all she could manage. Her eyes went back to the butter knife. Severus was right next to it. Maybe he'd give it to her.

"Listen… Narcissa, there's something you need to be aware of."

She examined it's lightly serrated edges, trying to tune Severus out.

He picked up her hand, holding it in his. His hands were warm and hers were cold. "It finally happened-"

"The knife…"

He ignored her; maybe she hadn't said it aloud. "Narcissa, you're pregnant."

Her hand tightened in his, but she showed no other reaction. She wanted that knife _so badly _though.

* * *

"AURORS! THEY'RE OUTSIDE!"

"They're not outside you fool they'r -aaagh!"

"Aurors!"

Draco dove for his wand, knocked from his hand by a lucky disarmament spell. Feeling another whiz by his face at the same time, he grabbed it and scrambled back to his feet, immediately taking off for one of the Manor's side doors. Aurors were all around, Death Eaters were all around, the spell that almost hit him could have been from either but he wasn't waiting to find out which, he wanted to be by his mother's side.

He slipped inside, bolting for the stairs.

"Where th' fuck ya' think you're goin'?" Fenrir Greyback demanded in his deep growling voice, grabbing Draco's robes from behind, almost choking him.

"Get off!"

"You fuckin' coward, the Dark Lord's gonna' hear about this!"

Draco resisted the urge to take his own wand to the despicable creature but before he could consider it too long, Greyback dropped him, baring his pointed teeth before bellowing out, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" over and over again. Aurors had breached the Manor. They were inside.

Malfoy immediately took off, up the rest of the stairs, slipping on a rug in the hall before catching himself, turning to the door.

He burst into his mother's room, slamming the doors shut behind him. "Mother, get down!" he shouted, throwing some shield spells on the door, floating over her wardrobe for good measure. "Aurors are inside, and the Dark Lord's not here, he went on a scouting -" he choked on his tongue, turning around for the first time and seeing none other than Harry fucking Potter staring him down from the other side of the room, a wand pointed straight at his nose.

The prick was holding a broom in his other hand, and there was glass all over the floor. It didn't take a genius to realize he'd gotten in through the window.

"_Accio_ wand!" he commanded before Draco got his wits back, and though Draco tried to hold on, the wand went zipping into Potter's waiting hand. "He really does keep you guys in the dark doesn't he? 'Scouting mission'. Right."

"What the hell do you know about it?" he spat, eyes going from his wand, to Potter, back to his sleeping mother.

Potter just shook his head, then with a move of his wand: "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Draco's arms snapped to his side, his legs together, and he toppled over, landing hard against the wardrobe before sliding and landing down on his side.

Potter was gathering his mother up from the bed, carefully lifting her.

_He better not hurt her! _he screamed in his head, watching as Potter put her on the broom in front of him. She still had not woken.

Behind him he could hear someone pounding on the door, the wardrobe bouncing against him from the incredible pressure. Potter paid this no heed though, sending Malfoy one last look as though considering something, before flying out the window, throwing that damned invisibility cloak over them. The last thing he saw before they disappeared from view was his mother's head resting on Potter's shoulder.

* * *

Voldemort had lost his Horcrux locket and the newly-pregnant Narcissa all in the length of an hour. When he reached the manor, dark thunderclouds enveloped the sky, Death Eaters and Aurors alike were struck dead as he went by.

Bellatrix Lestrange was the only one who dare come close to him after the remaining Aurors had retreated and the Manor's wards were back up.

"What would you like us to do, Master?"

He was silent, looking over the room. Various artifacts and plant-life in his line of sight exploded, making anyone near them cringe.

When he could control himself enough to speak, he requested they bring him Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"No! No! You have to take me back! He'll kill him! He'll kill him!" Narcissa howled, wildly scratching at anyone who risked coming close. "Take me back!"

The doctor pressed a hand to her own face, clotting the blood with a cloth, one of Narcissa's victims. "She's been going on like this ever since she woke up," she shook her head, raising herself from the bedside stool, "I'll fetch something to calm her down."

"Please, please, take me back!" she wailed tearfully.

Harry looked at his two friends, nodding towards the door.

They followed him out, past the four Aurors guarding the entrance at all times. Hermione didn't wait a beat, immediately saying, "Well, it's true. Somehow Voldemort got her pregnant, the doctor confirmed it while you two were gone."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Ron said, rubbing his chin, "Blimey, I almost feel bad for her."

"Well, now that we got her we can finally focus on what Dumbledore wanted, which was getting rid of the Horcruxes." Harry said.

"Harry, maybe, well, if Dumbledore knew Voldemort was going to try this, maybe he'd have wanted us to focus on it too," Hermione said, starting hesitantly but rushing to finish at Harry's dark look, "I'm just saying _maybe_!"

"Excuse me?"

The three turned, seeing the doctor poking her head out the door, "Excuse me, you- you might want to hear this."

"What?" Harry demanded as they rushed over.

"Well, I got her to calm down some, y'know a bit of chocolate, a small potion... and now that she's more understandable, well..." the doctor licked at her lips, looking nervous and a bit overwhelmed. "Well, just come listen."

Narcissa was sitting up in her bed, holding a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, staring over at them. She met Harry's eyes and her stare seemed to grow even more intense. "Potter. Potter listen to me-"

"I'm listening," he said evenly.

"The Dark Lord confided that he knows a spell to locate me anywhere, at all times, as long as he has an immediate blood relative of mine at his disposal, which, I'm sure you're aware," her voice wavered a bit, "he has one."

Harry watched her take a sip from the mug while he thought. If she was telling the truth...

Ron spoke up, "We need to move her, Apparate her somewhere."

"Then what? Continuous Apparation?" Hermione said doubtfully, "That'll lead to splinching for sure."

"Well, we need to do something, Voldemort might be coming right now!"

"Hogwarts," Harry decided, "We need to take her to Hogwarts, he can't Apparate into there, he shouldn't be able to detect her there-"

"It's a very powerful spell, linked with blood," Narcissa cut in, "he will be able to detect me. He might not be able to get to me immediately, if I was stashed in Hogwarts, but he'd know exactly where I was. Your best chance," she took a breath, "your best chance is to go get my son, as you did me."

Harry clenched his fists.

"What is it?" Ron asked, looking at him with worry.

"I had a chance to grab him, Malfoy. Or-or y'know, get rid of him, when I got Narcissa." He shook his head angrily.

"Well you didn't know, mate."

"Yeah Harry, how could you have?"

It didn't sit right with him, no matter what they said. He would've had this problem over and done with yesterday, but instead they were going to have to go back in there, maybe getting more Aurors killed.

"Hey do you guys think..." Ron spoke in a low voice, as Narcissa was leaning closer, trying to hear, "dya' think she's makin' this spell up? Just for us to go fetch Malfoy for her?"

Harry considered it, but Hermione had the solution: "We're going to need some Veritaserum."

* * *

"My Lord," Snape bent low, kissing the hem of his robes.

"Rise, Severus."

He almost hesitated, knowing he'd be getting a good look at what he'd only halfway seen from the entrance. But didn't dare keep the Dark Lord waiting.

"The ritual has been completed."

Blood, lit by strategically placed candles, all around the room behind him, painted into symbols, pentagrams, Latin words, some symbols he didn't even recognize, that still leaked, only half-coagulated. "All I need is the _Itari_." Voldemort beckoned, making him tear his eyes from the most dramatic part of the scene, the naked body hung up in the middle of the room, hanging by his shackled wrists, toes a few inches above the ground.

Snape immediately held out the small beaker of _Itari_ potion, made with copious amounts of Draco Malfoy's blood. It was not a potion he had even heard of until being asked to make it two days earlier with the Dark Lord's own hand-written notes on how to prepare it. Voldemort carefully took it from him, removing its stopper. He sniffed it through his slit nose, hissing, "Very good."

"Thank you, my Lord," Snape said graciously.

"And the other?"

Snape took the other beaker from his pocket. A blood-replenisher.

"Feed it to him," Voldemort said, waving a dismissive hand, "see if it will save him. I might have need of him once more."

"Yes, my Lord," he bowed, though wondering if Draco could really still be alive, with this much of his blood covering the walls.

Voldemort swept from the room, leaving Severus to deal with the aftermath of his work.

As he slowly approached Draco, he could see his hair had been shorn off, only the shortest amount of blond fringe remained on his head. Up-close was even worse; he'd had the same symbols covering the wall carved into his body, everywhere. His chest, back, the sides of his neck, some going up into his hairline.

Severus surveyed the seeping patterns grimly. He very much doubted they could ever be removed considering the ancient black magic they'd been imprinted with. That is, if Draco somehow survived the next hour.

"Draco," Severus tried, lightly tapping a hand on his cheek. Unsurprisingly, he didn't respond to Snape's touch, just hung there silently, completely unconscious. He pointed his wand, "_Re__nnervate_!"

Draco's body twitched, but he didn't awaken. He was far past such a simple spell.

Snape grasped Draco's lower jaw, pulling it open gently and tilting his head back, emptying the vial into his mouth. He then pointed his wand at Draco's throat, waving his wand in tight small motions. The spell triggered Draco's muscles to start working. He pulled another vial out and repeated the process. Another one might kill him, but not doing it might kill him, so after a moments consideration, he pursed his lips and did it once more.

Severus sighed, stepping back. A few drops of the potion had slipped down Draco's chin but little else had changed. After three doses any person with more than a small chance of surviving would have woken up, complaining of pain. Draco did not.

Still, he breathed.

Snape looked up at the magical chains holding him in the air, conjured by Voldemort himself. He obviously didn't plan on letting Draco down anytime soon.

Severus stayed with him as long as he could.

* * *

tbc...

_this chapter was named after a song by Bastille_


	2. Radioactive

_Full cover image available for viewing at kitakatzz dot livejournal dot com  
_

* * *

**No Church in The Wild**

**CHAPTER TWO**

_**Radioactive**_

The wind tossed his hair and he almost shivered from the cold, staring down at the Manor. It made an imposing figure in the moonlight, sprawling and impressive, with grass even now kept looking spruce and cut by magic long ago set in place. Various statues dotted the yards. Almost too bad about what was going to happen.

He made a questioning signal to Ron, far, far below, only visible because Hermione had put a spell on his glasses that gave them a binocular effect.

Ron, after a brief conference with the people around him, returned his signal with a negative: _not yet_.

Harry sighed, continuing his watch. It couldn't be long now, though.

* * *

Narcissa lay in her bed, awake, worried. Wondering if her son was still alive. She hadn't been able to sleep for the three days since she'd been "rescued" from the Manor. Deep, dark, half-circles sat under her eyes.

The doctor was reading a book on a cot next to her, routinely looking up from it to wave a wand in her direction, checking her vitals. Apparently having Voldemort's spawn growing in your stomach earned you a 24/7 medical watch.

There were two Aurors in the room, talking, but they'd cast some sort of bubble-spell and she couldn't hear a word. She'd no doubt it pertained to the impending invasion of the Malfoy Manor. She looked away from them, feeling dismal, reaching for a glass of water.

Then, a warm feeling, deep in her chest. Growing quickly. The glass slipped from her fingers.

The doctor jerked at the sudden crash, the Aurors jumped to their feet and more came rushing into the room from the hallway.

Narcissa saw none of that though; her head was thrown back, her body tight like a bow, arching upward from the bed. She let out a deep sigh, and suddenly, light sprung from her skin, and she was glowing. Symbols were scrawling themselves across her body.

Voldemort had found her.

* * *

CRACK

Tonks appeared, breathing hard. "He's done it, Voldemort's activated the spell. Narcissa's glowing like a lantern."

Remus nodded, looking grim as he placed a hand on her arm. He yelled down at Charlie Weasley from the overhang of rock he'd been waiting on, safe above the dragons, "Are you prepared?"

"Yeah!" Charlie replied, grip tightening on his magically-strengthened ropes as the sudden noise startled his Peruvian Vipertooth. Then quieter, "As much as I'll ever be for this."

He turned to the other dragon handlers, "Oy! Get movin'!"

* * *

Harry was the one who saw them. A large group of Death Eater's walking down to the lawn, before Apparating away. Exactly what Harry had been waiting for. In all likelihood, Voldemort had told them the location of Narcissa Malfoy, but, he being the only one who could Apparate from inside the Manor's walls, they'd had to move outside and past some wards.

He sent the signal down to Ron.

Ron and his group immediately turned their brooms and took off into the forest.

Satisfied, Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak and dove. He'd have maybe ten minutes of the Death Eaters being clueless, thinking their master was about to set things right, before all hell broke loose. He hoped to find Malfoy before that part, and make their escape at the beginning of it.

Reaching the lawn, Harry jumped lightly from his broom, cast a quiet _Reducto_, and shrunk it, small enough to fit in his pocket. He moved forward, skirting far around the patrols, making it quickly to the main doors, still open after the exodus of Death Eaters. The night air was fresh, and they didn't suspect an attack.

He'd already cast his own personal ward-avoidance spells and charms, along with Hermione and Lupin's help, but as he slipped through, a sick feeling of pressure overcame him. He could feel the ward's working against his defenses, trying to break through. He could also feel it was unsuccessful, but the pressure was immense. He pushed the nauseous feeling aside though, trying to focus as he made his way forward and through the doors.

He drew up short. In shock. Voldemort stood just fifteen feet away, conferring with his minions. Still very much inside the Manor.

Harry was rooted to the spot, completely unsure of what to do.

Their entire plan had hinged on the fact that Voldemort had already gone to find Narcissa. They couldn't take him on right now, not with his Horcruxes still out there. It would be pointless. Pointless deaths. A wasted surprise attack.

Harry had just about made up his mind to turn around, and race back on his broom to the others, hoping to stop them in time- when Voldemort's voice actually filtered through his own racing thoughts.

"I leave soon to join the troops," he was addressing the Death Eaters that loomed around him, "and reclaim what's mine. But first, I have something to attend to. Has the Malfoy boy been brought to my chambers?"

"Yes, my Lord," a voice answered. Harry recognized it as Lucius Malfoy when the man stepped forward, bowing deeply. It was one of the only times Harry had seen him around Voldemort without his Death Eater mask in place to hide his identity.

Voldemort looked down at the posturing figure, voice as cold as his eyes, "Very good. I depart."

Harry, still frozen to his spot near the door, took a minute to regroup. Thinking it out. The plan wasn't necessarily ruined. Voldemort still had six minutes or so to leave. And he'd be leading him to the exact spot Malfoy was hidden; a bonus he hadn't even thought of.

So, tightening the cloak around him and steeling his nerves, he followed the Dark Lord deeper into the Manor.

He stayed as far back from Voldemort as he could, knowing now was not the time for any confrontation. Never in his life was it as important to move quietly as it was now. As he kept his eyes on the black robes of Voldemort's back, he couldn't help a flashback to his first years at Hogwarts. Stealthily moving around Filch and his cat. And he'd thought that had been stressful.

Ahead, Voldemort disappeared through a large door at the end of the hallway.

Instead of risking getting caught by trying to slip inside immediately, before the door closed, Harry decided to try and wait him out. He'd give Voldemort a few minutes to come back out, and if he didn't... then Harry would have to chance it, go in and hope he'd Apparated away.

During his wait, Death Eaters passed by him, and Harry kept himself pressed with his back against the wall. One came close to brushing against him, but Harry managed to move first. He was very thankful for the large width of the Malfoy Manor halls.

Just as he was getting ready to move forward, and push the door open, another Death Eater appeared, so Harry slunk back, waiting for him to pass by. As he drew closer though, Harry could see the man was making a direct bee-line for Voldemort's chambers.

Harry watched the Death Eater, resolved. He'd just have to go in at the same time.

He prepared himself, pushing off the wall. Then he noticed the familiar walk, the aristocratic stance, and as the Death Eater pulled back the hood from their head, Harry finally saw the slick, black hair.

Severus Snape.

Harry felt himself baring his teeth, unable to control it, barely able to keep from drawing his wand on him right then and there.

Dumbledore's killer. Memories of that night came flooding back to him, and he almost missed his chance to slip into the room unnoticed, he was so wrapped up in his rage. But he caught himself in time and made it just as the heavy wooden door closed.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry said, just before throwing off the invisibility cloak.

Snape's wand went flying, and Snape spun, eyes falling on Harry. For a moment he very much resembled someone who'd been put under the Stupefy hex.

"Potter," Snape sneered, eyes glancing over to where his wand landed, next to a cage holding a pale snake. Then he looked back to Harry, recovering, "You do realize the Dark Lord has launched an offensive to retrieve Narcissa Malfoy? And you waste your time stalking me into bedrooms?"

"I know what Voldemort's doing, Snape, and I'm not here for you. You just happened to be in my way."

"And you in mine," Snape returned with a death glare.

Harry kept his wand on him, feeling the loathing in his veins, wanting so badly to put Snape in his place. But this was an extremely inconvenient time for a showdown. His friends would be starting their assault any minute now. He couldn't waste his time with this, no matter how good it would feel to exact some vengeance. "Where is he?" Harry demanded, keeping his temper in check while he carefully looked around himself, searching for some sign of Malfoy. The only sign of life in the room so far was the snake. So where had Voldemort stashed him? He studied the walls, searching for a portrait maybe, perhaps hiding a pathway for a secret room.

"Where is he?" he said again, finally looking back to Snape. Luckily he did, because Snape was moving his hand in quick motions, thinking Harry distracted, doing a wandless, wordless spell that no doubt would have brought Snape's wand back into his waiting hand.

"_Stupefy_!" Harry roared, with more power than he ever had before with the simple spell.

It hit Snape hard and fast, driving him back a few steps, head lolling, before he collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Harry surveyed the older man grimly. Hesitating. Another day, he'd have it out with him. Finally have his vengeance for Dumbledore. But not now. Instead he took Snape's wand and snapped it in two, throwing the pieces on top of his lifeless body.

"Hey... wha's goin' on...?"

Harry jumped, spinning around, caught completely by surprise. The room was still empty behind him though. Heart in his throat, confused, he glanced back at Snape, suspecting some trick- but no, the man was completely unconscious.

"Malfoy?" he said, scanning the room carefully, searching for the source of the drowsy voice. He decided to risk casting a spell Hermione had taught him, to detect cloaking magic, although it had been known to set off defensive-wards. Time was running short.

"_Descuvri_," he recited, flicking his wand, remembering Hermione's words: _up, left, then a quick __wave__ Harry_. In response, sparks of golden light shot out like a miniature fireworks show, flitting about the room, indicating there was indeed some strong spell in place there. Then the lights finally came together and fell slowly upon the caged white snake.

"What the- what's going on?!"

Harry stepped towards it while the sparks faded away, having done their job. And the snake, which before had been laying serenely in its cage, was now coiling around the limits of the glass, moving fast in little circles. "What's going on?" it wailed again in Draco Malfoy's voice.

Before Harry could decide his next move, he heard a woman's piercing scream from afar. Almost immediately followed by the amazingly loud roaring of a dragon. And Harry knew that the Aurors had finally breached the Manor, and the dragons were loose and doing what dragons do best. Destroying everyone and everything in their path.

Time to go. He rushed forward and flipped open the cage lid, and after a brief moment's hesitation of what to do or say, he just pointed his wand: "_Stupefy_!"

The snake- or, Malfoy, rather- went limp, and Harry grabbed him.

* * *

"Harry!"

"Over here mate!"

He blinked, feeling a little disoriented and sick after port-key travel, as he usually did.

"We were getting worried," Remus said, rushing over, Hermione and Ron right behind him, "you took longer than we'd planned... what do you have there?"

Harry was clutching tightly to the snake in one hand, having been afraid he'd somehow lose him during the port-key travel. "I had some trouble getting out of the Manor," he answered slowly, letting the port key fall and hefting the snake into his other hand to share the burden. It was pretty heavy after awhile. "Sorry to worry you."

"Why do you have that Harry?" Hermione asked, adding anxiously, "Were you able to find Malfoy?"

"Is it a Horcrux?" Ron asked. "Is it dead?"

Harry shook his head. "Wait, first- did everyone make it back okay?"

Ron smiled, "Yeah, don't worry about that. And only a few injuries... mostly people getting a bit charred by the dragons when we were trying to get them to focus on the Manor," he rubbed at his own arm, which had a noticeably red mark, "Effin' hard to get a dragon to focus on anything."

"Yes it is, and what happened with Draco Malfoy?" Lupin cut-in with a sense of urgency, "we have to notify the others on whether we need to keep moving Narcissa or-"

"You can tell them to come back; Voldemort can't locate her anymore," Harry said, lifting the snake higher, "I've got Malfoy right here."

Lupin looked at him, the snake, then back again, appearing perturbed.

* * *

They'd kept her from her son for almost three weeks.

They didn't care if she raged or pleaded, barely giving her any explanations. When they finally did explain the travesty that had been bestowed upon her son, she'd taken it in without a word. But they still made her beg to be allowed to finally be reunited with him, citing their idea that it would be far safer to keep them hidden apart, so the Dark Lord would never get his hands on both of them at once. She didn't care about their precautions of keeping her and Draco apart. She'd needed to i_see_/i him.

Finally, they'd brought him in. In a cage.

"Give it here!" she'd snapped, at her wits end with these people and their "precautions". Her son, in some beast's cage!

But now, hours later, her anger had completely gone. Depression was taking over, and Narcissa wouldn't stop crying, holding the large snake against her and rocking. Forward and back, forward and back. Her son, for his part, just let her. His gray eyes only blinking slowly now and again. She'd been horrified to see the carvings along his white-blonde snake body. They'd stayed through a transfiguration spell, just as his dark mark had. They were exactly as the Dark Lord had described they would be, if he needed to do the location spell. Even though she'd held out hope that it had been a scare tactic, to keep her from trying to escape... inside she'd known the truth.

The medi-witch decided to come over and bother them. Trying to force more medicine on her, but Narcissa turned her face away.

"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, try to take them... these potions will help, you must calm down and let your body rest, we don't even know what that spell did to y-"

"I'm tired of potions!" Narcissa suddenly screamed, lunging forward and knocking the brew from the doctor's hands. The cup shattered on the wall. The Aurors waiting in the hallway glanced in the room. "I won't take any more! Leave me be! I want to talk to the Order!"

"I told you, someone will come and talk to you, but for now you have to rest and-"

Tucking her chin down onto the snake's head, she glared, demanding, "What do they plan to do to help my son?"

"I'm not privy to that information, Mrs. Malfoy, but I'm sure they have a plan, they just need more time-"

"The only plan you people have is to keep me and my son apart! They feel no urgency to change him back, do they?"

The medi-witch huffed, sitting back on her heels. She watched silently as Narcissa blinked through her angry tears, wiping at them with a shoulder. Her family had been destroyed. Her son used as a pawn and discarded when no longer useful. They were no longer in the Dark Lord's clutches, but she didn't doubt it would be any different with the Ministry's people.

"Leave us be you useless ninny!" Narcissa finally hissed. "Leave us be until you have information from the Order."

The doctor threw her hands up in defeat, leaving the two alone and going back to her desk on the other end of the room.

* * *

tbc...

_this chapter was named after a song by Imagine Dragons_


	3. Don't Kick the Chair

_Full cover image available for viewing at kitakatzz dot livejournal dot com  
_

Finally, the set up is behind us, and we start to get to the meat of the story.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_**Don't Kick the Chair**_

At least Draco was getting better at it, she thought. Watching him try to write something with a quill clamped in his mouth, head turned sideways to scratch it down on the paper. He hadn't wanted to do it, turning away and not looking at her the first few times she'd suggested it. He probably felt the whole procedure he had to go through demeaning, but, for her, eventually he gave in. They were in the same room she'd been in ever since she'd been taken by the Order and the Aurors. She was sitting with her knees crossed and Draco was in front of her. There was a new doctor on the other end of the room, rarely looking up from her parchments. Trying to give them a semblance of privacy, she thought.

The quill was out of ink. She took it from him and dipped it in the small ink pot resting on the night table beside her bed, before handing it back.

So far it read: _**How r u f**_

She tried: "How am I feeling?"

He dropped the quill to the paper. Nodding.

She rubbed a hand over her protruding stomach, hidden from view underneath her bed covers. Knowing he was asking about the pregnancy, specifically. Lately, she'd been getting terrible pains, almost like the spawn was trying to eat away her insides. It made her curl up and want to die. The feeling came and went, usually throughout the nights. Of course, she would tell him none of this. "The potions are helping," she eventually said.

Draco cocked his head, wanting her to say more, obviously. Maybe not believing her. The snake had a poker face her son had never been able to achieve.

Not wanting him to worry, she added calmly, "I can already feel the pain starting to get less and less lately. I'm sure it's only a temporary thing."

In truth, it was actually getting worse with each passing week and she could feel herself growing weaker. From the beginning, she'd demanded the ministry abort the pregnancy. End the demon spawn's life right now so no one would have to worry about what the Dark Lord planned to do if he ever got a hold of it. Of course they refused. She knew it was because they wanted to hold some sort of power over Voldemort. To have something that they could talk about in the papers to keep the peoples faith in their government since Harry Potter had denounced their minister and gone AWOL.

They didn't care about her. They didn't care about her son.

Draco had managed to pick the quill up again. Scratching away. She turned her head to see what he had so far.

_**I dont bel**_

"You don't believe me."

He nodded, but didn't drop the quill this time. Planning to write more, she assumed.

She hesitated, finally deciding on: "The potions really do help, Draco."

He put the quill back to the paper, but she held up a hand. "Wait, I don't want to talk about me anymore. What are they doing to help you?"

Draco pulled back, shaking his head.

"Nothing?" she guessed, her voice sharp.

A nod.

"They say they're still looking into it, right?" Narcissa continued, "They have their best people researching?"

Draco gave the affirmative.

She pursed her lips angrily. If only she had a wand, she felt she could fix him herself! How long was the ministry going to wait? The Order? When would they start taking his situation seriously? She could only imagine how fast they'd have righted the problem if it was Harry Potter in Draco's place instead.

One of the biggest hurdles they said was in their way was that they felt Draco might die if they changed him back. They believed Voldemort had transfigured him to prevent that happening. When she'd asked Draco, he said he had no idea. He'd been unconscious at the time. He would not write down for her what had happened to him during the ritual, but Voldemort had told her enough. It was a traumatic, horrible thing that had happened to him and she felt nauseous thinking about it, but she would not push him to talk about it now. They had so many things to deal with already.

So, it was possible the Order could be right about that one. Or they could be wrong, Voldemort could have transfigured him to hide him. Either way, it doesn't mean you should ignore the problem. You try to find solutions! She felt her hands clenching in the bed sheets.

Draco had been writing while she'd been consumed with her thoughts. He wasn't far enough along for her to understand though, so she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. For his sake. Because there was nothing she could do about it right now.

There was a loud bang from the hallway and Narcissa looked up. From the corner of her eye she saw the medi-witch had done the same. At first, Narcissa wasn't overly worried. She assumed it was something like that hapless niece of hers, Tonks, falling over her own feet again. Something harmless.

But there was shouting now. An explosion.

Draco lifted his head, quill still in his mouth, looking towards the open door. The medi-witch had risen from her desk and was hurrying over to it, face worried. A bright green flash, then Narcissa saw one of the Aurors who'd been stationed outside fall to the ground, wand rolling away from his lifeless hand. The medi-witch had jumped back in horror, shrieking in fright.

Narcissa didn't waste any time. She threw back her covers, jumping to her feet. "The Death Eaters have found us! Give me that wand!" she screamed to the medi-witch, "Quickly!"

The other woman seemed frozen to the spot, staring down at the dead Auror.

"Fool!" Narcissa growled, running forward and kneeling down to retrieve it herself. To her surprise, the medi-witch came to life then, grabbing her wrist before she could reach it.

"No! No, you aren't allowed!"

"Are you daft?! The Death Eaters will kill you as quickly as they killed that Auror!"

As they struggled, Draco came from behind them, surprising them both. He scooped up the wand in his mouth, slithering back behind his mother.

Narcissa finally wrenched herself away from the other woman, shoving her aside. She grabbed the door to the room and slammed it shut. The shouting and screaming was getting louder. She ran to Draco, taking the wand, quickly turning back and casting shielding and locking spells on the door.

Meanwhile, the medi-witch was beside herself with fear, having retreated to her desk to crouch behind it. Trying to crawl underneath.

Narcissa ignored her, having put herself on the other side of her bed, flipping it over with a grunt. Using it as a shield. Pointing the Auror's wand at the door. Waiting. There was nothing else to do.

"We can't Apparate out of here," she said aloud to Draco. She did not know if he was aware of that or not and she didn't want him wondering.

"Oh Cissy, my dear!"

Dread filled her. This was it. They were here. Next to her, she felt Draco flinch as the sing-song voice called out once again.

Bellatrix was not far from the door.

She didn't have much time. "Draco," she said, looking at the snake who was her son. Taking in the elaborate carvings all over his body. Knowing she couldn't let him land in the Dark Lord's hands again. Knowing he'd be killed this time, as punishment for letting herself get captured. Or for amusement. "Please forgive me," she said, putting a hand under his chin, "I can't let them take you."

He blinked and only had enough time to attempt to pull back from her before she cast her spell, "_Stupefy_!"

The red light engulfed him before he had time to react and he went completely limp.

She lowered his head to the floor. Then gathering the blankets that had fallen around them, she carefully lifted Draco and placed him inside. "Things would go better for you if you opened this door willingly, dear sister!" Bellatrix called, her voice more amused than anything.

She felt her hands shaking as she tried to make the bundle of blankets containing her son look inconspicuous. She moved quickly to put it in the corner. Hopefully they wouldn't even look at it. Outside, she could hear them casting spells on the door. She took the remaining sheets and bundled them up, throwing them about the room at random so the one containing Draco wouldn't look as if it was hiding something. Then, at the last moment before the door was blown in off its hinges, she tucked the stolen wand in her sleeve. She had a plan for it.

"Cissy! Cissy, there you are, at last!"

Narcissa watched as a group of Death Eaters stomped into the room, Bellatrix in the lead. She was the only one not wearing a mask, and she had a big, crazy smile on her face, made more malevolent by a blood splatter across her cheek. "Oh, how pleased our Master will be."

Narcissa remained silent.

"Oh? Nothing to say? No tearful reunion for us?" she held her hands out, as if waiting for Narcissa to run into them for a hug.

Carefully, Narcissa started to slip the wand out of her sleeve as her sister cackled, seemingly amused at herself.

"Oy, lookie here," said one of the Death Eaters over her laughter. He had found the medi-witch. "We got ourselves a blood traitor here!"

He hauled her up from behind the desk by her arm. She was blubbering, stupid in her fear. "D-don't kill me! Please, don't k-kill me!"

Bellatrix's smile disappeared. She looked bored and annoyed by the whole proceedings. She was obviously more interested in retrieving Narcissa and returning her to Voldemort. "Get rid of her," she said dismissively, "we don't need any hostages right now."

"No wait!" the medi-witch shrieked. The Death Eater had shoved her away, and she banged off the desk. She scrabbled at it for purchase, desperation all over her features. The Death Eater was aiming his wand with a flourish. "No! The- the snake! The snake! Don't you want the snake?!"

Bellatrix looked over with more interest, grabbing the other Death Eater's arm to stop him.

"The snake? Do you mean Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, Draco!" she said, breathing fast, looking encouraged, "I can show you!"

Bellatrix glanced at Narcissa, who was standing ram-rod straight now, glaring across the room at the panicked medi-witch.

She must have been watching Narcissa hide her son when she'd been underneath that desk.

Bellatrix was smirking, looking back. "Oh really? You would show us? Yes, our Dark Lord would probably like that very much... if we brought them both back at once..."

The medi-witch swallowed, licking her lips. "Well, I- just don't kill me, I can show you! If I show you, will you spare me?"

"Yes, yes, I think that can be arranged." She laughed, and a few of the other Death Eaters joined her. "You do seem like a useful one."

The medi-witch looked a touch relieved, and she started to turn, just beginning to lift her hand. "He's hidden-"

Narcissa screamed over the rest of the medi-witch's words, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

In a flash of green lightning from her wand, the medi-witch collapsed to the ground. But Narcissa wasn't watching, nor did she see the shocked face of Bellatrix turning towards her. She was already pointing the wand at her own stomach. Pressing it hard into the roundness of her belly. "Avada Ked-!"

"NO!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

"ACCIO WAND!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

All were yelled at once, and the wand went flying from her slack fingers while Narcissa was helplessly thrown back into the wall at the strength of the spells, head banging off violently.

Narcissa felt consciousness waning and knew her head was bleeding. That fool of a medi-witch had ruined her plans. She had never intended to be captured again.

Her last thought was only hoping they didn't find Draco. Hoping they didn't realize he was in the room with them. Above, she saw a fuzzy image of her sister standing over her before everything faded to black.

* * *

Ron had thrown the Horcrux locket into a random chair and Disapparated. Hermione was crying and holding Ron's blankets up to her chin as she huddled in another chair. Harry walked away from the scene, unable to bear it. Figuring it was about time to check-in with the Order anyway for a status update on the pregnant Narcissa Malfoy.

He stalked over to the fire in their tent, grabbing the bag of Floo powder off the hearth. Originally, they'd wanted to go with a different tent, and have absolutely no connection to the Order at all, but everything had changed when that Death Eater had kidnapped Hermione and told them what Voldemort was planning.

He stuck his head into the green flames, barking out the Order's headquarters address. Immediately, he was overwhelmed by frantic, angry voices. "What's going on?" he demanded. The elite fighters were in each others faces, not listening but determined to be heard themselves.

"Harry," Tonks said, pulling away from the arguments and running over to the fireplace when she noticed him, "Harry, he got Narcissa."

He felt his stomach drop. The Horcrux search had taken a deep nosedive, with them having no leads, no idea what to do next, and his fight with Ron... and now this. Now this. "How?" he finally managed.

"Good question," Professor McGonagall said loudly in her teacher's voice, carrying over the rest of the group, "although I think the answer is clear here. We have a traitor among us!"

The room fell silent. Harry watched as they all started eyeing each other up and down.

"Now, let's not be hasty," Arthur Weasley said. Except he said it almost hesitantly. Like, he himself believed McGonagall's words, but felt someone should disagree. "We don't know that for sure..."

Shacklebolt spoke, voice low, "I'm beginning to think the same way as Minerva. How else would Voldemort have found Narcissa without inside knowledge?"

"Maybe this is what Voldemort wants, us fighting with each other instead of focusing on-"

"Oh, I think Voldemort got what he wanted already!" McGonagall said, interrupting Hestia Jones bitterly. "He's got Narcissa hasn't he?"

Harry had enough. His job was the Horcruxes, and their job had been Narcissa Malfoy. Why couldn't they handle that? He felt let down and angry, and though he knew some of that was probably because of his recent fight with Ron, he couldn't help it. And he definitely didn't have time or the patience for their politics.

Frustrated, he pulled his head back from the fire.

Hermione had moved onto her bunk while he'd been gone. She'd been laying down, but at the look on Harry's face, she sat up. "What? Something happened?"

"Voldemort has Narcissa again."

Her eyes grew twice in size. "Oh no."

Harry rubbed a hand on his scar, staring at the floor between them. He didn't want to think about what they would do now. How this situation might change their plans.

Moments had passed in silence when suddenly, he heard the fire roar up behind him. He turned to see Lupin's face. "You left that meeting rather fast," Lupin said. He looked very solemn.

Harry shook his head. "I can't focus on that stuff right now."

Lupin surveyed him quietly. Harry could tell he wanted to ask for more information, to try and help him, but he also knew Harry would tell him nothing. Lupin was probably remembering the fight they'd had about it before, when he'd wanted to join them in their search and Harry had told him no.

"The meeting devolved quickly into a blame game Harry," Lupin said after a moment, "And unfortunately, I... I do think McGonagall is right."

"Right about what?" Hermione asked, settling down next to Harry in front of the fire. She was still holding one of Ron's blankets around her.

"That someone in the order betrayed us to Voldemort." Lupin explained, voice grim.

"You really think that?" Harry said with some surprise. He'd figured McGonagall was being paranoid before, just stressed and desperate to find a reason, and he was shocked to see Lupin feeling the same way. It was hard to think of the Order, people he considered his friends, and try to pick out someone who was actually secretly working for Voldemort. Even the thought of it depressed him.

"I do. Now I understand, more than ever, that Dumbledore had been correct to instruct you not to tell anyone about the specifics of what you three are doing." Lupin suddenly stopped, looking around. "Where's Ron?"

Next to him, Hermione sniffled, and all Harry could do was shake his head.

Lupin, alarmed, looked back and forth between them quickly. "Is Ron dead?"

"No!" he and Hermione both cried out at once.

"No," Harry said again, watching as Lupin closed his eyes in relief. "No, he's... he's just not here right now. I don't really... Listen, what are you guys going to do about Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry asked, wanting to change subjects.

"She's already four months along," Hermione pointed out, face grave. It looked like she didn't want to dwell on Ron's departure either. "And I can bet you he's not going to wait the full nine months either."

"Yes, we were thinking the same thing," Lupin agreed, "we figure we have maybe three months before Voldemort tries to induce labor. And that's just a guess. Harry, you haven't had any...?" Lupin was gazing up at his scar, and Harry realized Lupin was wondering if he'd had any visions about Voldemort and his plans.

"No, nothing about that."

Lupin sighed. "I thought so, just hoping..." he paused, his head turning in the fireplace. "Hold on a moment."

His head disappeared from view, and maybe half a minute passed before he returned to the green flames. "Just checking I was alone and the door still locked. There's something that I... well, let me say this. I believe someone in the Order is passing along information at the very least, to Voldemort. Perhaps being coerced under the Imperius curse, even. And right now, that someone knows that the current plan to get Narcissa Malfoy back is to use the same spell that Voldemort attempted last time."

Harry grimaced while Hermione exclaimed, with thinly veiled disgust, "They're going to make that Itari potion?! And do the blood ritual again?!" They'd learned a bit about it through Narcissa's description before recovering Malfoy. It was some of the darkest magic Harry had ever heard. A few notches down from how a Horcrux was created.

"I hope not, and I'm trying to convince others, but some are saying we should attempt it... but they don't even know the full ritual, and they still aren't sure how to brew the Itari. And of course, there's the matter of Draco Malfoy still being stuck in transfigured form."

Harry balked at that, very surprised.

Beside him, Hermione gasped, "They haven't changed him back yet? It's been months..."

"McGonagall couldn't manage it in all this time?" Harry demanded. With Professor McGonagall being one of the leading Witches out there on the subject of Transfiguration, he'd have thought she'd have found the solution long ago.

Lupin shook his head. "No, Voldemort did something that even she doesn't understand. She thinks it has something to do with the ritual. So, they have quite a few obstacles in front of them before they can try that ritual, or even i_mak__e_i the Itari potion, for that matter. And my suspicion is, that in all that time, the traitor and Voldemort himself is going to be aiming all efforts at killing Malfoy, to stop us recovering Narcissa."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. His whole life was supposed to be about Horcruxes right now. He didn't want to be thinking about traitors or Malfoys or anything else. The thing most on his mind at the moment, that he felt he needed to be focusing on, was how to destroy that stupid locket.

"And what do you want from us sir?" Hermione asked finally. She looked tired. He knew they were both long overdue for some sleep after his altercation with Ron.

Lupin seemed to be recognizing the same thing, that they were tired at least, because he was more hesitant, more apologetic sounding as he continued, "I know you guys have a lot on your plate, but, the plan Voldemort has to sacrifice this child he sired and take back his original body while gaining more power than ever... well I feel it's almost as important as whatever it is Dumbledore sent you to do." He took a breath, "anyway, we will be doing everything we can over here, going over all our options. But in the meantime, just until I can come up with a better hiding place, I'd like to keep Malfoy with you."

Immediately, Harry was going to say no and Lupin obviously sensed this, as he hurried on to explain: "I already took Malfoy, he's right here next to me. I've told no one. I don't trust anyone right now, except you Harry. Hermione." He met each of their eyes. "This is very important. No one will suspect that you have him. It really is the perfect solution, just to get him temporarily out of harm's way."

Harry frowned. He and Hermione shared a glance, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking. "Can you give us a minute?" Harry finally said to Lupin. His former professor looked surprised and a little disappointed that they felt they couldn't discuss this in front of him, but he promptly nodded and disappeared from the fireplace.

"Well?" Harry asked her, stretching out one of his crossed legs.

Hermione blew out a big sigh, shaking her head. "I don't know. I don't know, it's hard to even think about that Order stuff right now with all the Horcrux's still out there." Harry agreed, knowing exactly how she was feeling. "But I guess Lupin's right, it is important too. We can't just let some turncoat go and kill Malfoy or deliver him to Voldemort. And it seems like Lupin really thinks that will happen. I mean, he took Malfoy without even telling anyone... they'll be really mad if they find out it was him."

Harry hadn't thought about that part. Lupin was really putting himself out there right now, waiting in a locked room for Harry and Hermione to agree to take Malfoy while the other members of the Order were most likely freaking out trying to find out just where Malfoy went. "They might even think he's the traitor."

Hermione nodded grimly.

"He did say it would only be temporary," Harry said slowly, rubbing at his leg. Coming to terms with the idea, though he didn't really like it.

She pulled her blanket on tighter over her shoulders. "I'm... okay with it if you are Harry. I just don't want Lupin to get in any trouble."

"Yeah," Harry said, reluctantly, thinking of Lupin's situation. Having no one to trust. "All right."

He stuck his head into the still-green fire, feeling the sensations of Floo travel before he saw a small office. Lupin with his side towards the fireplace. Sitting at a desk, looking pensive, while a clear cage sat at his feet. It was hidden from sight in case the door was to be burst open, Harry assumed.

"All right," Harry said, causing Lupin to jump in surprise. He recovered quickly, turning towards him. "Short-term, right?"

"Yes Harry, only short-term."

"Fuck you."

Harry jerked, badly startled. He looked towards the source of the voice: the snake, Draco Malfoy, was turning his gaze between the two of them, curled up in a corner of his cage. His voice had been sullen and hard. "Just fuck you both." Then, Harry remembered, of course he could understand Malfoy. He could speak Parseltongue. He'd completely forgotten about that in the months since recovering Malfoy from Voldemort.

"What is it Harry?" Lupin asked, concerned.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the office door. Followed by the knob being jiggled. "Hey!" came a muffled voice, full of suspicion, "Who's in there?"

Lupin moved quickly, grabbing up the cage and passing it over to Harry, who put his hand out for it. There wasn't any time for second guessing. Just as Harry got a hold of the handle, and felt himself whirling away, he heard the door burst open and Lupin saying in his best annoyed-Professor voice: "Don't believe it's good form to burst into a private meeting with Harry Potter-"

He didn't hear the rest. No doubt whoever it was was in for a thorough chewing-out. He pulled himself out of the fireplace, hefting the cage with him.

Hermione watched him set it to the ground. They were both looking down at the curled up snake who was glaring back at them. She seemed at a loss for words, tucking her hair behind an ear. Eventually, she settled on something polite enough: "Hello Malfoy."

Malfoy, for his part, didn't say another word, turning instead to gaze at the fire.

Harry left the cage near the fire, rising to his feet while Hermione followed suit. Were they supposed to leave him in it? Did the Order think Malfoy would try and escape? He didn't really get a chance to go over specifics with Lupin and he didn't think it wise to take Malfoy at his word if he asked him.

Harry and Hermione eventually made their way to their bunks. Harry collapsed into bed, trying to still his racing thoughts. Ron leaving. A traitor in the Order. Voldemort recapturing Narcissa Malfoy.

It was a lot to process.

* * *

_This chapter was named after a song by Dia Frampton_


	4. Viva la Vida

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_**Viva la Vida**_

He could hear sobbing. It made his thin lips curve into a smile. He waved a hand at the sniveling Wormtail and the little man raced ahead, shoving the heavy door open and holding it as Voldemort walked by.

The Death Eaters he had stationed inside stood straighter at his presence. The light haired woman herself straightened on her chair in surprise, pulling back from the little window she'd been gazing out of. The window looked down onto a stone archway far in the distance, set in the middle of an expansive grassy field.

"Quite a view isn't it?" he asked, gliding further into the room. "You'll see it up close in the future, I promise."

She was frightened, wiping quickly at her face. "Y-yes, my Lord."

"My, my... why the tears?" He came to stand before her, looking down. "I'd say I'm keeping you rather comfortable up here in this tower... A bed to sleep on. A chair to sit on. Armed guards at your side, always ready to protect you. Luxuries."

Narcissa Malfoy bowed her head. "Yes my Lord," she agreed quietly, "it's... it's more than I deserve."

"Oh, let's not play games here Narcissa," Voldemort laughed. It was a hissing, wheezing sound. He reached a hand out to press to her stomach. Yes, he could feel the little beast moving through her skin. It pleased him. "I don't do this for _you_, but for the... _child_."

She kept her head bowed. Only saying, "Yes."

"Dear woman," he said, lifting his hand and cupping her chin. Forcing her to look up into his face and meet his red, slit eyes. He could see her horror and revulsion, though she struggled to keep it from showing. "You mustn't fret. For the child, the little boy... I will keep you safe and comfortable here."

She struggled to maintain calm. "Thank you my Lord."

Suddenly, he held her chin more tightly, fingers clamping down on either side of her jaw. She tried to jerk away, obviously in some pain, but he held on. "But... if you ever try to kill yourself again," he hissed, jerking her head up, forcing her to meet him eye-to-eye, "I will hunt your son down and do worse to him then you can imagine." He let his nails dig into her skin, and her eyes watered.

He didn't move, staring at her. Letting his words sink in. He could feel the excitement of the Death Eaters behind him. The pain and dread of the woman he held in front of him.

"_Do you understand_?"

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes I understand!"

He released her. She pulled back immediately, turning her face away, holding a shaking hand to her chin.

"Think of this," he said, voice low and dangerous, "if I found you Narcissa, held and hidden away in the darkest pits of the Order of the Phoenix's oh-so-secret hideout... how hard will it be for me to find Draco?"

* * *

Harry woke with a shout. In pain.

He became aware that his hands were already pressed to his pulsing scar. Must have done that in his sleep.

"Are you all right?" Hermione's hushed voice came from her bunk. The tent was still shrouded in darkness, he probably hadn't been asleep for very long. The fire had burned itself out though, all that was left was the subdued orange of its embers. Harry could see the shadowed cage over there next to it, but he couldn't tell whether he'd woken Malfoy too or not. "Harry?" Worry and drowsiness mixed together in her voice.

He rubbed at his head, teeth clenched. "M'fine," he managed. "Go back to sleep."

She was probably looking towards him in the darkness, hoping he'd say more. But he turned towards the side of the tent, staying quiet.

Lupin had been right, Harry thought. McGonagall had been right. Malfoy wasn't safe with the Order. Voldemort was very sure he'd have him in his clutches soon. Ready to be used against Narcissa as he pleased. Harry had felt his confidence. His certainty. And how could he be that sure unless he had someone on the inside?

Harry felt now he was forced to face the truth, and accept that someone in the Order was feeding information to the other side. He also realized he had to cut-off all communications with the Order immediately. They couldn't risk it. It was how he'd originally wanted it anyway, he reasoned. How Dumbledore had wanted it. No more status updates. No more Floo Network connection.

Tomorrow, he thought, rubbing his aching forehead, he'd have to ask Hermione if destroying a fireplace destroyed the connection. If not, they would need a new tent.

* * *

"Harry, wake up! He's gone!"

Harry blinked open his eyes, looking over to see Hermione staring at him. Confused, still half-asleep, memories of the previous day filtered in slowly and he immediately thought she was referring to what had happened with Ron. He muttered, "Yeah, I know."

She caught on at once: "No Harry, I don't mean Ron, it's Malfoy!"

He sat up, twisting to look past Hermione, his eyes falling upon the empty cage with its lid forced halfway off.

He pulled back his blanket, jumping to the ground. "Did you look outside?" He started slipping on his trainers. The drowsiness was gone. "See if he just wanted a look around or something?"

Hermione nodded, rubbing her hands together from the cold. "Yes, and I didn't see anything. Although it's hard to see anything in this rain," she said, putting a hand to her hair, which he now noticed was rather wet. "I called out too, before I remembered he couldn't answer me anyway."

Throwing a jacket over his shoulders, Harry grabbed his wand. "I'll go take a look. Can you start packing our stuff?" He slipped the Horcrux locket on over his head. They didn't have much time, they were supposed to keep on the move, leaving as early as possible. He tried to keep himself distracted from the thought that when they left, Ron wouldn't be able to find them again, even if he wanted.

She agreed though. Probably wanting to stay by the fire and get a break from the heavy rain still pouring down.

Harry left her, ducking outside. He checked the immediate area outside their campsite. He didn't see any signs of a snake slithering away into the wilderness, but then again, how would he? It was so overcast, and the rain so thick.

He made his way past their wards and Hermione's shields and out into the trees.

The early morning light did little to help him see anything in the bad weather. He reached up, pulling his soaked bangs back from his eyes, which had been clinging to his face behind his glasses.

"_Lumos_," he said, deciding to risk it. Just in time, he avoided a trip into a creek, illuminated by his light right before he was about to step over its edge.

He jumped over it. Then he remembered that a snake wouldn't be able to jump over it, and he didn't think Malfoy would go through it, it was pretty deep, so he backtracked and jumped back.

Keeping to its bank, he made his way through the tangled bushes and rocks.

Time passed as he walked along, peering into the brush.

He did not see any sign of the pale snake that was Malfoy. And as the rain kept falling and time kept ticking away... only then did he start considering what they would do if he wasn't able to locate him. Leave him? Make one last update to Lupin and let him know what happened and then Apparate away?

Eventually, a freezing Harry started making his way back, traipsing through the mud. He'd been out looking for at least an hour. And he had no idea how long ago Malfoy had made his escape from that cage anyway. He was probably long gone.

Shivering as he finally reached the campsite, Harry noticed the river they were next to was just about ready to overflow. They needed to leave soon.

Harry pulled back the tent flap, saying through chattering teeth, "C-couldn't find him Hermione. I think I looked everywhere in that fore..." but he trailed off before he could finish, words leaving him as he stepped in fully and saw Ron Weasley standing there, right in front of him.

He too, was soaked and shivering.

It took another second for Harry to process through his shock of seeing him at all, that Ron was holding a large snake. Somehow, he'd found Draco Malfoy.

"He just got here," Hermione said, turning around from the roaring fireplace and lowering her wand. She must have started the fire up again with some fresh wood. She was smiling. He realized he and Ron were grinning as well. He was still kind of cross at him, but he knew some of that was the influence of the locket he was currently wearing. And he'd damn sure have been crosser if Ron had stayed away. "Now, both of you need to get over here and warm up, and Ron you should start explain-"

Ron stopped her, losing his grin and shaking his head. "I'll explain, but there's something w-wrong with M-Malfoy," he said, teeth chattering, "I think he's sick or s-something."

Focusing his attention down at the snake, Harry noticed Malfoy wasn't moving. He just hung limply in Ron's hands. His eyes were half-lidded. "He d-doesn't look very good does he?"

"Get him by the fire," Hermione said with some real concern. "I think... aren't snakes cold-blooded? So they can't generate their own heat."

"I don't know, _C-Care of Magical Creatures_ was never really my strong suit," Ron replied glibly as they got down and gathered around the fire. Ron carefully laid Malfoy in front of it.

The fire felt amazing. They were quiet for a minutes, letting themselves warm up. Harry, clothes and hair still dripping, could already feel his shivers beginning to lessen in their intensity. He reflected on how right it felt to have Ron back at his side. All three of them together again.

"Mum!" Malfoy suddenly cried out, making Harry jump.

His body was twisting around a bit, no longer laying still. It was almost like he was coming back to consciousness. "Mum, watch out..." He was lifting his head now, waving it sluggishly from side-to-side. "Look out, they're coming... get up... you have to get up..."

Harry couldn't help a flashback to the vision he'd had of Narcissa last night, being threatened by Voldemort. He stood, walking over and grabbing some blankets from the nearest bunk.

"What're you d-doing?" Ron asked, he and Hermione watching him.

"He's having hallucinations," Harry replied grimly. Pulling them off the bed. "Like he's caught a fever or something."

Hermione was looking down at Malfoy with eyebrows drawn together. "It's impossible for snakes to have a fever. Cold-blooded remember?"

"Well yeah, maybe he's too cold then? I don't know."

Malfoy continued mumbling to himself, repeating the delusional warnings to his mother. His words were slurred and sloppy. Harry took the blanket and dropped it over him, which Malfoy took no notice of.

"How did you find him, Ron?" Harry asked, looking over as he sat back down. Wanting to distract himself from the feverish ramblings only he could hear. His friends were oblivious, only hearing a quiet hissing.

"How did you even know to look for him?" Hermione added.

Ron lifted a shoulder, wiping at the water droplets rolling down his cheek, still dripping from his hair. "Well, I sort of ran into him. I was trying to find my way back to the campsite, I was really lost, 'cause when I'd Apparated I was way off the mark. Miles off." He held up his hand, which they noticed was missing two fingernails. "Splinched myself too."

Hermione and Harry listened as Ron told them the story of how he was captured by Snatchers. Apparently gangs of them were roaming the country sides, trying to find muggle-borns or blood traitors. The ministry promised them gold for turning them in.

He'd escaped their clutches, barely. Apparating away.

"And I was walking along for hours, trying to find you guys, but everything looks the same out there. I was thinking you'd be gone by the time I got back anyway. Felt a bit hopeless." He stopped, looking up at each of them. "I... I'm real sorry about what happened. I was a right git."

Hermione held his hand. The one missing the fingernails. "It's okay Ron." She punched him lightly on the chest. "Don't ever make me run after you like that again though!"

He smiled back at her. "I don't plan on it."

Then he glanced over at Harry, smile slipping a bit.

The locket resting over his heart burned fiercely, and Harry started getting angry again. Ron's words from yesterday coming back with a vengeance, echoing in his head: '_We thought you knew what you were doing_!'

Then Harry grabbed it. Pulled it off over his head. He put the Horcrux on the ground next to him, immediately feeling lighter and more forgiving. "It's all right mate," he said. And he meant it.

Ron looked apprehensive though, staring down at the locket. As if he were worried it would come to life and grab him. "I can't wear that thing anymore. It—it effects me more then you two. Differently. Makes me think things..."

Hermione squeezed his hand, looking worried. "You don't have to wear it anymore. Right Harry? He doesn't have to."

"You don't," he agreed. He would bear the locket's burden by himself. It was worth it. What would have happened if Ron hadn't made it back in time? Harry didn't even want to think about it.

"No! No... please... stop, stop..."

Harry pursed his lips, wishing Malfoy would go to asleep, fall unconscious, bleed out, pretty much anything that made him shut up. He was much more comfortable thinking of the Slytherin as his nemesis, hearing his genuine pain and fear for his mother made him more real, more of a person than Harry was willing to deal with right now. Besides that, the last thing Malfoy would want was his pity, and listening to his desperate pleas was not something Harry had ever wanted to be privy to. It wasn't something Malfoy would want either, he was sure.

"So you just ran into Malfoy?" Harry said, focusing on Ron. He needed a distraction. "And you knew it was him? Straight off?"

"Oh that's right," Hermione said. "We didn't even know he was still transfigured until yesterday, how did you?"

"I didn't actually, but when I found him, he was halfway curled up under a log, on his side. Gave me a scare, seeing that big of a snake and I about left and kept on going, thought it might try'n bite me... but then I saw his mark, right here." Ron indicated his own chest area, waving a hand at it. "The dark mark. I figured, how many snakes have a dark mark on them? It's gotta' be Malfoy. And it's gotta' have something to do with the two of you." He smiled ruefully. "Anyway, I was yelling at him, trying to wake him up but he didn't move. Thought he might be dead for a minute there." He glanced down at Malfoy. Still making quiet sounds, only his head uncovered by the blanket. "But I got him and kept looking for you guys."

"That's good," Harry said approvingly, "you finding him like that. I wouldn't have even thought to look for a dark mark."

Ron rubbed at his neck, looking embarrassed. Like he felt he didn't deserve any praise. "Yeah, well... Now it's your guy's turn. What's Malfoy doing here anyway?"

They filled him in on what had happened the night before. As Harry finished their story, Hermione suddenly waved a hand, interrupting him. She was looking towards the tent flap door. "Water's coming inside." Harry followed her gaze, realizing the river outside had finally overflowed. A small growing pool of water had collected at their door. "We'd better get moving."

They stood and gathered what was left of their things. Thankfully, Hermione had gotten most of it packed before Ron and Harry had returned from the forest, so it didn't take long.

The boys did not seem eager to handle Malfoy at all, now that he was awake, delirious and moving a bit. Hermione noticed this and finally took the initiative, lifting Malfoy and the blanket, tucking it around and carrying him outside.

They followed her out into the rain, and Harry lifted his wand, casting the spell that took the tent down in rapid speed, rolling it up. Ron put it in Hermione's bottomless bag.

They held hands and Apparated away.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Coldplay_


	5. Bullseye

As you can tell from the last chapter, there are times in the story where bits of dialogue and descriptions from _Deathly Hallows_ are mixed in with my own. Obviously, all credit to JK Rowling on that.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_**Bullseye **_

Draco didn't feel right.

He felt feverish, but without the heat. Often there was a sensation of floating. Like everything around him was a dream. A dream he couldn't hold on to, slipping from one to the next. Hallucinations about his mum, or Voldemort. Or reliving the pain and horror of the blood ritual the Dark Lord had performed on him. Sometimes in the hallucinations Voldemort would be replaced with Harry Potter, who was casting the ritual spells while his two friends cheered him on.

"_You got it Harry!"_

"_Yeah, look at him scream!"_

He had flashes of lucidity though, suddenly coming back to himself.

He awoke to one of them, realizing he'd been placed on a cot. Then seeing Hermione Granger standing there, leaning down towards him, hands on her hips. It was disorienting. "Malfoy? You with us? Are you able to eat? Just nod your head..."

These times of awareness were becoming more frequent, and later on he awoke to Potter and Weasley, sitting at a table across from him, with a necklace laying on the table between them. Both were discussing ways and ideas of how to go about destroying it. Draco watched this for awhile, but didn't know what to make of it. Eventually allowing himself to drift off back to sleep.

When he awoke again, it was dark. Draco felt better, but still weak.

Through the shadows he could see Granger sleeping in the other bunk. In the bunk above her, two big freckled feet dangling in the air, Weasley being too tall to fit properly. He assumed Potter must be in the bunk over himself.

He slowly made his way to the edge of the mattress, carefully lowering himself to the ground. He slithered towards the tent flap door, wanting to see where he was now. Where they'd taken him. Before he'd reached it, he could already feel the cold seeping through and hear the wind howling outside. He pulled open the flap with his mouth, squinting his eyes at the sudden rush of snow that swirled around him and into the tent. Outside was an empty landscape of white snow.

"You're not going to try that again, are you?"

Draco turned at the hushed voice, letting the flap close. Potter was sitting up, looking towards him.

Draco realized with a jolt that Potter was waiting for an answer. That Potter could understand him. The whole Parseltongue thing. It seemed almost worse that after months of being unable to communicate with anyone, the only one who could understand him would end up being a person he could barely stand being in the same room with.

Draco had not been planning on leaving though, still feeling himself to be in a fragile state physically. Very sure the snow would do him in this time. "Maybe," Draco finally answered. "Haven't decided yet."

Potter reached towards the side of his pillow and Draco stiffened, just waiting to see the wand that was about to be brandished towards him. Another spell thrown at him he couldn't defend himself against.

But his hand came back up only holding his glasses, which he now slipped over his nose.

Draco still watched him, wary.

Potter didn't seem to take notice, climbing down out of bed. He walked by Draco, going towards the fireplace. "I don't know if you know about this," Potter started, voice still quiet, "but sometimes I have visions about things that Voldemort sees." He stared down at the dwindling flames, arms crossing. "Things he does."

Draco didn't respond. Didn't know why Potter was rambling about this to him, either. All the Death Eaters knew about the vision thing though. The Dark Lord made it out to be an advantage, as if he meant for it to happen. Draco had his doubts about this... deeply hidden though they were.

"Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know that I had a vision 'bout Narcissa."

He felt his breath get caught in his throat. Shocked. He hadn't expected this.

"_When_?" Draco demanded breathlessly, emotions getting the best of him. "When was this? What happened? Is she all right?" The questions came out of him like a rapid succession of spells in a duel. He couldn't help it. "What's he done to her?"

"It was days ago. The night when you first got here. He threatened her, but he didn't... he didn't hurt her," Potter leaned down, throwing another log onto the fire as he continued, "he's keeping her locked in a room somewhere, but he doesn't have any plans to... I mean, it's pretty clear he wants her healthy 'cause of the pregnancy."

Draco stared at Potter's back. The relief at this news overwhelmed him. All he'd been thinking about was the horrors his mother might have been subjected to, or was currently being subjected to. Since the moment he'd woken up from being stupified, it haunted him. But no, the Dark Lord hadn't tortured her as punishment. Potter said she was okay. He'd been imagining so many things...

"Well keep me updated," Draco finally said, when he felt he could speak properly. "If you have any more of these visions about her, I need to know."

Potter looked over at him then, face incredulous.

Draco didn't bother to respond to the look. He supposed Potter felt Draco should show him some gratitude. Instead, he moved away from the tent flap door, remaining silent. It was too cold. He'd begun to feel that same numbness that he'd felt back in the forest, in the rain. When he'd suddenly lost his ability to move or think clearly. He wanted to go next to the fire to warm himself, but he wasn't going to with Potter still there, so he headed back for bed.

As he slithered back under the covers, thoughts of his mum swirled around him. To be honest, maybe he _was_ just a bit grateful to Potter, but he didn't feel like sharing that with the git who'd kidnapped his mum in the first place, anyway.

He hoped she was still okay. Two days was a long time with Voldemort.

An involuntary shiver ran down him as he once again had a flash of hanging from that ceiling, wrists manacled above him, while Voldemort carved... and the blood... He blocked it out. Two days? No, a _minute_ was too long a time with Voldemort. And he knew that better than anyone.

* * *

"There's someone watching you guys."

Harry glanced over to where he could see Ron's footprints in the snow. Knew he was standing there, though he was hidden underneath the invisibility cloak. "You sure?" he whispered back surreptitiously.

"I saw something too," Hermione agreed from next to him, voice tight. They were pushing open the kissing gate that led out of the graveyard where he'd just seen his parents tombstones. Making their way out onto the icy street. "Over in the bushes, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "someone's over there I think."

They were approaching the church now, could hear the choir singing carols, louder than before. Harry was just thinking of taking refuge inside when Hermione grabbed his arm and led him down another street instead. The one leading out of the village and past the last of the cottages.

As they passed the multi-colored Christmas lights around them, Harry spotted it ahead. A dark house, at the end of the street. He hurried forward, leaving Hermione behind with Ron.

"Harry -"

"Look…" he called back, "Look at it, you guys…"

"I don't… oh!"

He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in the dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired.

The three of them stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

They saw a sign marking the importance of the house. Giving the date of his parent's death and Harry's survival. Around that, magical graffiti of wizard's and witches who were showing their support.

Seeing Hermione's indignation at the graffiti, Harry just smiled. "Nah, it's brilliant," he disagreed.

"Yeah," Ron said, "it's nice to see people on our side for once... hey, heads up. Some old lady heading towards us."

Harry turned, watching the woman approach the fence. She shuffled and hobbled her way up to it. She kept her distance from them, only gazing up at the house. She could not be a muggle, or the house would have been invisible to her. He and Hermione shared a glance. Hermione was looking unsettled. But Harry was thinking maybe she'd been sent by Dumbledore... waiting for them all these months, since he knew they'd eventually show up here. Maybe. It seemed like something Dumbledore would do.

She had turned her gaze towards them. Harry swore he even saw her milky white eyes cross over to where Ron stood.

Following his instinct, he took a step towards her, asking, "Excuse me, are you... are you Bathilda? Bathilda Bagshot?"

She nodded.

She hobbled back, away from the gate, turning towards the way she'd come. Then she lifted a hand, beckoning them to come forward. To follow her.

"I think we should," Harry said in a low voice.

Ron agreed, "Let's do it. Besides, we can take her if we have to. Three against one."

Hermione nodded, and the three of them headed forward.

Immediately Bathilda resumed her shuffled gait up the street. Leading them past several cottages, she routinely glanced back to make sure they were still following. Finally reaching a yard that was nearly as overgrown as the one they'd just left, they went up a small path, waiting as she fumbled to open the door with her key.

She held the door for them as they went inside. Harry couldn't help but notice the stench as he passed her, nose wrinkling in protest. She smelled bad. Or maybe it was her house. It smelled old. Musty. Rotting.

He heard Ron cough, and he knew he wasn't the only one affected by the odor.

Bathilda was used to it by now, he supposed. She didn't seem to care about or even notice their reaction. Unwinding her scarf from around her neck, she revealed mottled, blue-veined skin. A tuft of white hair left on her head after removing her shawl.

The locket was burning against him as they silently watched her. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it knew it would soon meet its demise.

"Bathilda?" Harry questioned. He laid a hand over his shirt, atop the locket. Felt or imagined its growing heat.

Again, she only nodded, shoving past Hermione as if she hadn't seen her, going into the next room. Expecting them to follow.

"I don't know about this..." Hermione said after righting herself. Ron had appeared next to her, letting the cloak fall. He'd been ready to catch her.

"No, it'll be all right." Harry said, confident now after the locket had started pulsing. Coming alive. He felt this was where they were supposed to be. "I should have told you earlier, she's not all there. Muriel called her 'gaga'. And anyway like Ron said, the three of us can take her if she goes loony-"

"Come!" came the sharp demand from the next room.

Hermione and Ron both jumped. Harry looked towards the room suspiciously.

"That sounded like a snake!" Hermione said in shock, face paling.

"Yeah, sounded like Malfoy does," Ron agreed, pulling out his wand.

Having just spoken with Malfoy in Parseltongue last night, Harry had immediately recognized the language for what it was too. Bathilda was not Bathilda. Something had happened to her. Now the strange smells and decrepit house were making more sense.

"What should we do?" Ron asked, glancing back at Harry.

Harry didn't want to leave without getting some answers. The locket was still burning hot against him. It felt more dangerous though. Something very dark was going on here. But before he could answer Ron's question, a shuffling in the next room interrupted him. Then a loud clattering.

Bathilda appeared again, a saucer holding a candle clasped in one of her hands.

Harry had his wand trained on her, as did Ron and Hermione. "Who are you?" he demanded.

She said nothing. She seemed to be taking in the scene. The three wands pointed towards her face. Ron clearly visible now.

Plumes of smoke were making their way from the next room, Harry noticed. "Answer me!" he said, this time in Parseltongue.

She locked eyes with him. Her milky white, cataract-filled eyes with his. "Potter," she said quietly, "yes?"

Harry's hand tightened on the wand. He knew his middle-aged, balding, poly-juiced body did not fool her. The smoke behind her was growing rapidly and the room was beginning to feel hot. Maybe she'd dropped a candle in there. "Who are you?"

She ignored him, instead closing her eyes. Several things happened at once: Harry's scar prickled painfully; the locket twitched so that the front of his jumper actually moved; the dark, hot room dissolved momentarily. Then he felt a leap of joy and spoke in a high, cold voice: _Hold him_!

Harry swayed where he stood, coming back to himself. He didn't understand what had happened.

"Harry?" Hermione said, worried, "Are you all right?"

Bathilda took advantage of the distraction, suddenly throwing her candle at Hermione, who cried out when hot wax hit her cheek. Ron rushed toward her.

Bathilda though, was focused solely on Harry. She made a shuffling move, then with surprising strength, gave a great leap towards him. Only, when she hurtled towards him something strange happened. Her body seemed to come apart. Her skin became loose, and a giant snake was pouring out of where her neck had been, launching itself at him.

Harry tried to dodge but his shock at seeing Bathilda's body rip apart slowed him down- the snake hit him hard in the side, knocking the wand from his hand and the breath from his lungs.

He fell to the ground and the snake took advantage. He felt a heavy, smooth mass sliding on top of him. Making it hard to breathe. Hard to move. His wand was pinned underneath him, out of reach.

Ron and Hermione were launching spells at the snake now, but they almost seemed to bounce off it. Completely harmless. The snake, Nagini, was large enough that she held Harry still, slowly wrapping herself around him, while still able to dart her head forward, trying to bite his friends. Only striking air as they moved and dodged around her.

The room was filled with their spells bouncing off Nagini the snake, ricocheting back, uncontrolled. One of them hit a mirror with a crash and flying shards went about the room.

Harry was in two places at once: here, being held by the snake and there, flying through the sky without need of a broomstick or thestral, a metal heart was banging outside his chest. Filled with triumph.

He couldn't breathe. The snake. The smoke. He struggled to maneuver himself to reach his wand- he could feel it pressing into his spine- but he couldn't manage it.

"Watch out!" he heard Hermione cry. Black dots were dancing in his vision now.

Then, his scar seared painfully. More painful then it had done for years. "He's coming!" Harry squeezed out breathlessly. Coughing. He didn't know if they could hear him, but he used the rest of his air to yell: "Run!"

Harry felt his head might explode. He was in so much pain.

"Hermione- NO! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

All at once, the weight pinning him slipped off, the muscles loosening around him. The pain in his head amplified and Harry screamed. Or was Voldemort screaming?

Far away, he felt a hand wrapping itself around his wrist, pulling. People calling his name. But he was having double vision, being ripped into two separate consciences. Voldemort, landing on a dark cloud just outside on the overgrown lawn. Then back to himself, between Ron and Hermione who were struggling to pull him to his feet. _ "__H__is wand!" "__Run, run, run!" _Voldemort, feeling murderous, closer to the burning cottage where his precious Nagini now lay dead... his Horcrux...

Helpless, Harry slipped into memories that were not his own and lost himself.

* * *

At the same time Harry and the others had met Bathilda at Godric's Hollow, Draco Malfoy was back at the campsite and out of ideas of things to do. Feeling more refreshed than he had in days, he was getting a bit of cabin fever. He didn't dare try venturing outside again though. Not in this snow.

Eventually, after searching through the rest of the tent and finding nothing of interest, he'd pulled open a large beaded bag, rifling through its contents. It was out of sheer boredom really.

His mood perked up a bit as he recognized it as being magically enlarged. He'd owned a few in his days. Something in there was bound to have a bit of use.

Using his tail, he pulled out another small bag. From its weight and size he guessed it was Floo Powder. He tossed it aside. Useless to him, in his current state. He rummaged some more.

After throwing many items to the side (books, clothing, hairbrush, cooking utensils, more books) he finally ran into something interesting. A large magical portrait. It was currently empty, and being a portrait, it didn't have enough distinguishing features for him to guess who it might belong to. He decided to leave it be, paranoid it might have something to do with Voldemort. Draco didn't doubt it with who he currently was stuck with for traveling companions. He started to nudge it to the side.

"Oh, and what's this now?"

Draco reared back, meeting eyes with the painted person who had suddenly appeared against the muddy backdrop. The portrait wore a hat and had a bit of a pompous feel about him.

"Letting wild animals into your shelter?" the man said, looking up at Draco with scorn. Just as quickly, he seemed to dismiss Draco, instead taking interest in the room around him. The portrait's eyes were scanning everything. It looked like a painting that should be hanging in the halls at Hogwarts, but Draco did not recognize him. "A tent, eh? Just what I had suspected. No need to blindfold me anymore! You disrespectful children, blemishing works of art, no care at all..."

He watched as the belligerent portrait trailed off, finally falling silent. "Hmm." It seemed to realize there was no one else there and he frowned, giving a big dramatic sigh before returning his attention to Draco. Like he was sizing him up. "Ah-hah, now I know who you are! The transfigured snake! Is it- yes, young Draco Malfoy? My house's former seeker and once a Prefect. And here you are? My my how strange... oh Severus needs to be informed immediately!"

At the mention of Snape, Draco's paranoia felt justified. He immediately regretted taking the portrait out of the bag.

"Your whereabouts have been the topic of many a conversation, Mister Malfoy!" he was going on.

The portrait would tell Snape he was with Potter, who would immediately tell the Dark Lord, who would immediately send the Death Eaters out into every snowy wilderness to look for a tent like this one.

Draco's heart was racing as he rushed to lift the damn thing, to get it back in the bag, to try and erase what had happened- all the while it was still carrying on about Snape and Potter. Already the consequences of what he'd done were filling his head.

"No one would suspect this though! Hiding out with Potter? Very clever. Very Slytherin!"

Draco wasn't listening- he'd finally finagled the top of the frame into the right position for sliding it back into the bottomless bag. Just as he started to push it in, a strange feeling came over him. A coldness. What was going on?

He couldn't continue; the coldness had crept over him completely, like an icy grip.

He was shocked to realize that his entire body was shaking. Trembling. He hadn't noticed when it started. A strange buzzing was filling his ears.

"I wonder if Severus is back yet, perhaps I should go and check. He'll be exceptionally pleased to know-" the portrait stuttered to a stop, taking notice of Draco in front of him. "Merlin's Beard, what in the- what's wrong with you?"

He didn't feel any pain, but he felt _off_.

A deep heaviness around his body like nothing he'd ever experienced.

Losing his strength, Draco collapsed onto his side, white fireworks encompassing his entire vision. The buzzing was now a roaring. He couldn't hear the painting anymore- he couldn't hear anything but these thunderclouds reverberating in his head. The thunderclouds almost sounded like the Dark Lord, screaming. In a rage.

It seemed forever that it lasted. Eons before his senses began to clear.

"...in all my years! What sort of spell was that? Certainly not a normal transfiguration... some sort of deviation from that..."

Draco groaned, rolling onto his back.

"The indecency! Get something to cover yourself with!"

He opened his eyes, turning his head towards the voice. The portrait was glaring at him now, looking peevish. "I know you heard me boy!"

Draco squinted his eyes in confusion, turning away. What had just happened to him? He felt exhausted and pained. Like the aftermath of a Cruciatus curse. The need to sleep was pulling at him with a vengeance and he didn't know if he could resist it.

His bunk. He wanted to get to his bunk. Instinctively, he put his hands at his side, pushing against the tent floor to get himself up. It took a minute of sitting there, wobbly and unfocused, to realize what he'd just done.

Used his hands?

He looked down at himself and nearly felt like crying in relief. His body! Scarred and ruined though it was, almost unrecognizable as himself really. But it was him. He was back.

"Have you no modesty? In my day and age we cared about those sort of things!"

"Shut up," Draco growled, using his voice for the first time in a long time. It was very satisfying. "Just shut up."

He lifted himself to his feet, but it was too fast. His vision pinholed and he swayed. Far away, he thought he could hear the stupid portrait saying something, but he couldn't make it out, he was so lightheaded. He stumbled around, trying to find something to hold onto but he only grabbed air. Unconsciousness overcame him, and he didn't even feel himself hit the ground.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Dia Frampton_


	6. Things We Lost in the Fire

Two chapters today for you. Please review, thanks.

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SIX**

_**Things We Lost in the Fire**_

Hermione tightened her grip on Ron's slipping wrist again. Next to her, she felt him trying to stay straight, trying to carry his weight on his own. She knew it was useless though, and she kept his arm slung over her shoulder. He was in too much pain, his leg too mangled.

She turned her focus from Ron to the floating body in front of them. She had to keep her wand pointed straight at Harry to maintain the spell to keep his unconscious body afloat, but she was having trouble. Having to support Ron and keep the wand on Harry was harder then she'd anticipated as they stumbled through the thick, nearly knee-high snow.

"We're almost there," she panted in encouragement to both Ron and herself. "I know it's not that much further."

He only grunted in response, completely focused on staying upright and conscious.

The wind howled, pushing against them, blowing snow in their squinting eyes and making it that much harder. They'd Apparated further from the tent then they'd meant to. Hermione knew it was lucky that they'd even managed _that_ though. Voldemort had literally been feet away from them at that last moment.

Her blood ran cold, remembering the eye contact she'd made with him, just as they'd burst from the window of the drawing room. Ron, crying out in pain after Voldemort roared some spell she hadn't recognized. Voldemort had been aiming at Harry, who hadn't known up from down, only clutching desperately at his head, but Ron had moved at the last second, leaping to cover him.

Hermione, the only one who had been left unscathed, had grabbed both their hands, pulling them to her chest- her best friends whom she loved, screaming and in pain- and she'd concentrated harder than she'd ever concentrated before in her life.

Voldemort's eyes had been on her as they twisted away. She'd never felt such evil. The absolute hatred coming from him was something she'd didn't think she'd ever be able to forget.

She stumbled, falling to one knee. Harry dropped, but she managed to level her wand hand again before he hit the ground. Ron, who'd almost topped over, clutched desperately at her shoulder, the blood flowing from his leg staining the snow as she struggled to regain her footing. "Sorry," she said, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

He nodded, but didn't seem able to respond further than that.

She got back to her feet, and they resumed their trek. Ahead, she could just make out the spot where she knew the tent was hidden behind her wards.

When they finally reached it, Ron was done. He was absolutely exhausted, unable to even keep his head up anymore. "Take care of Harry first," he said, breathing deeply, letting himself collapse to the ground outside the tent. "I need... a second."

She didn't waste time, floating Harry ahead of her through the flaps, following closely behind him. Directing him towards a lower bunk, she was distracted and engrossed in the task and was very surprised when she tripped over a large object she hadn't noticed blocking her.

Still, she managed to get Harry to his bed before she fell, using her wand to magically push him the rest of the way. He bounced off the side of the tent and banged an elbow against the frame, but it was better than falling two feet.

Of course, she'd sacrificed her own knees so Harry would make it, and they throbbed painfully as she shifted. Turning to see what it was that had been in her way.

A naked body.

"Oh my god!" she said, putting a hand to her mouth in shock.

It took a moment, but then recognition flowed through her. Pale face, aristocratic features...

Draco Malfoy, somehow, someway, was back to being a human. He was laid out behind her, on his stomach. Face turned in her direction, one hand outstretched. His hair was so short, it was why she hadn't recognized him immediately.

His body was covered in deep, intricate carvings. A color of dark red that was nearly black. She could see they were all over him, just like it had been over the snake body. But it looked so much worse now. It looked fresh. Like it had been put there yesterday and they were ready to start bleeding at any second.

"All right?" Ron called, voice weak but worried.

She blinked, struggling to pull herself out of her surprised stupor. "Yes, I'm- I'm fine!" she said. Climbing to her feet, she stepped around the body. She could see his back rising and falling in time with his breaths. He was alive.

Rushing back to Ron's side, she left Malfoy where he was for now.

Pushing the tent flaps aside, Ron waited for her, head down between his legs, arms at his side. It was like he'd Splinched himself all over again. Shivering both at the cold and the situation, her only thought was on the Dittany she knew she still had left in her bag. She hoped it would work on this wound too.

She took both Ron's hands, and he acknowledged her with a small nod before she pulled him up and out of the snow. She led him carefully into the tent, warning him about Malfoy, and they walked around him. Ron was as shocked as she'd been, but his reaction much more subdued by his pain and blood loss.

He was clearly concerned though, looking back at the naked figure after Hermione led him to her own bunk where she made him sit. "I don't trust him," Ron said through pale lips. "It's one thing to have a snake-Malfoy hanging around with us... and how did he change back anyway?"

"I know. It's something to think about. But not right now-" she turned, pointing her wand back at where she'd left her bag, planning to call it over with a summoning spell, and found herself speechless as her eyes fell upon it. Her bag, open, and many of it's contents strewn haphazardly around it. Including the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.

Thankfully, it was empty, no Phineas to be seen. But just the sight of it like that had made her heart beat a little faster.

"_Accio_ bag!" she said, and it zoomed into her waiting hand. It was obviously Malfoy's doing, searching through her things like that. She didn't have time to think about it though, summoning the portrait and returning it to the bag, she then pulled the dittany from its depths.

Ron had grown more pale and his eyes had slipped closed. They shot back open though as she further ripped his already destroyed trouser leg. She could feel him watching her as she carefully upturned the little brown bottle, droplets falling upon his thigh. Green smoke billowed upwards, and the bleeding stopped. Just like before, new skin knit itself immediately, crossing from one side of the sizable wound to the other.

Hermione felt she could breathe a little easier now. Her relief that it had worked, not knowing the hex Voldemort had used, was immense. She'd been so worried. "You should lie down," she said, meeting his eyes, "rest."

Again, he glanced beyond her, towards Malfoy. He looked like he wanted to resist, to stay awake and help her deal with him, maybe make sure Malfoy didn't try anything, but even now his eyelids were drooping down. Blood loss had taken its toll.

She reflected on how Ron had saved both her and Harry's lives back in that house. Before jumping to Harry's aide, Ron had been the one to kill the snake. Surprised though she was that he'd used the Killing Curse, it had been the only way to save her. The snake had been aiming a deadly bite for her neck, and there was no way any other spell would have stopped it.

She put a hand lightly on him, pushing him back.

"It's okay Ron. He doesn't even have a wand."

Seeing her logic, Ron eventually acquiesced, allowing himself to sink down into the pillows. He had laid his hand over hers, still resting atop him. It didn't take long for his breathing to get heavier.

Hermione gazed at him for a few moments. Just feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her hand.

She finally turned away, looking over at the other bunk, at the side of Harry's face that was visible. He too, was fast asleep. She was very concerned about him, about the way he'd been unable to defend himself back at that cottage. Holding his scar, in obvious pain, before blacking out. And now he was deathly quiet and still. She had no dittany that could fix that.

Carefully, she slipped her hand out from underneath Ron's.

She wanted to get a closer look at Harry, but she couldn't stand having Malfoy just lying there, naked, so she reached up to the empty bunk where Ron normally slept, pulling the blanket off. Being careful not to touch him, she draped the blanket over Malfoy, making sure to leave his head uncovered. She didn't want to accidentally obstruct his breathing.

Now, feeling a bit less distracted, she focused her attention on Harry. Kneeling down next to him she realized she'd been wrong about him being silent. He was murmuring very quietly to himself, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, rolling past his scar.

His face was stressed.

She laid the back of her hand on his forehead, noting that he didn't feel any hotter then usual, which was probably a good thing. But this wasn't a normal case of sharing a vision with Voldemort, that much was clear. He'd have woken up long ago if it was.

Harry jerked in his sleep, hand going to his chest. He was touching the locket.

Hermione immediately decided to take it off him. She reached a hand down his jumper, intending to grasp the Horcrux and pull it off over his head, but she cried out in surprise, wrenching her hand back quickly. It had burned her. The thing felt like it was on fire.

Harry moaned and muttered, and Hermione tried again, and she was able to hold on longer this time, but she realized not only was the locket amazingly hot, it was also stuck to Harry's chest. It would not budge.

She did a quick spell to cut the fabric to reveal the locket.

Again, she tried to pull it off, using both hands. She didn't let go, even through her pain, she was still pulling as hard as she could. Eventually, she slipped off, but the locket stayed.

Hermione held her aching hands in front of her, frustrated. Harry's face was contorting in pain and discomfort. She didn't know if this was from whatever he was seeing in his head, or the influence of the Horcrux locket. Either way, she wanted it off him.

Pulling out her wand, she decided to try a Severing charm. She knew it would most likely leave a mark, but she didn't think the Horcrux would let go of him any other way.

"_Diffindo_!" she said, and the locket jerked grotesquely against Harry's skin, but it did not release itself. She realized it would not come off so easily. She wrapped one hand on the burning locket, and pointed her wand with the other. "_Diffindo_!"

When the locket jerked, she pulled. And pulled. "_Diffindo_!"

Finally, it let go.

She threw it from her burning palm. It landed on the ground near the fireplace.

Harry had a bright, scarlet oval left on his chest where the Horcrux had been. She felt bad about that, but it was better than leaving it on him, although he didn't give any sign that he knew he'd been freed from the Horcrux. He was still muttering, same as before, and she could see his eyes moving beneath the eyelids. Lost in his visions.

In an effort to make him more comfortable, Hermione pulled the ruined jumper from his body. Tucked the covers up around his shoulders. She summoned a sponge to her hand and began wiping his forehead.

It was at this point that the adrenaline from everything that had happened began to leave her, and now her own exhaustion was making itself apparent.

She tried not to dwell on what would happen if they were suddenly ambushed by Death Eaters or the Snatchers Ron had told them about. The outcome wouldn't be in their favor, that much was for sure.

Distracting herself from the thought, she glanced behind her to look at Malfoy again. He was still out. All the boys were. The thought of having to take care of three young men, unconscious, and in need of medical assistance was more than a little overwhelming. She wasn't anywhere close to being a Healer. A doctor. All she had was dittany and a sponge.

She left Harry's side, deciding it was time to probably take a better look at Malfoy. His situation scared her a bit, because she literally had no idea what was going on with him. Had no books to read that would shed some light on the subject.

Settling down on her knees, she knelt in front of him. He had no pain on his face, she noticed. He looked like he was sleeping. That had to be a good thing.

Malfoy's neck was partially visible above the blanket, and she saw the carvings and lacerations went up it, some into his hairline. At closer inspection, they looked like a bastardized form of ancient Latin writings, mixed with something sort of similar to what she'd learned in Ancient Runes class. When he was a snake, everything had been miniaturized, and she hadn't been really able to tell what the symbols were.

But the most disturbing part of it all, in her opinion, was just the sheer amount that Voldemort had sliced into Malfoy's body. It must have taken ages. It was daunting to imagine anyone going through that.

Now though, Hermione felt there wasn't really much she could do for him. Just wait and see how he felt when he woke up, she guessed. She summon-charmed a pillow to her. After a brief internal debate on whether or not she really wanted to touch him, she finally leaned forward and lifted Malfoy's head, sliding the pillow beneath him. In response to the movement his eyelids fluttered and she thought he was about to wake, but he did not.

She went back to Ron and Harry's sides, checking on both again. Harry still moved restlessly while Ron slept.

Finally, with the boys taken care of, she turned to the mess that Malfoy had made of her belongings, picking up the clothing and books, tossing them into her bag. The Horcrux was laying amidst them. She lifted it with ease, noting how much cooler it had become now. It felt like normal metal. Briefly, she considered putting it on for safe keeping, but decided against it, and placed it in the bag too. She just didn't feel comfortable wearing it at the moment.

The next thing she picked up was _The Tales of Beetle Bard_, and she paused in her efforts. It was open on the very same page that she had shown Harry and Ron the other day. The page that had that strange symbol of a triangular eye with a slit going through it. The _very same _symbol that they had run into_ again_ at Harry's parents graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

She gazed at the little picture thoughtfully.

The fact that the book just happened to fall open on that very exact page... A coincidence, of course, but still... Hermione felt like this symbol was important. More important than Harry and Ron seemed to think. She set the book down on the little table they had, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

Once again, she opened her _History of Magic_ book. She felt more resolved in her efforts to find out the true meaning of the symbol now.

Hermione settled into a chair, reading. Routinely she would get up and check on each of the boys. She was tired and worried, but the studying helped her to reach a sort of calmness, and she welcomed it.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Janet Devlin_


	7. Elephant

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_**Elephant**_

Harry pulled himself to consciousness, freeing himself from Voldemort's memories. Voldemort's point of view of when he murdered Harry's parents in cold blood. Then tried to kill Harry only to have it backfire on him.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was back in the tent, lying on one of the lower bunks, tucked into a blanket. He could tell that it was almost dawn by the stillness and quality of the cold, flat light beyond the canvas ceiling. He shook himself loose of the covers, looking for the others.

"You're awake," Hermione said. She abandoned whatever book she'd been reading, coming to his side. "How do you feel? You haven't been well."

"I'm all right," he said, noting with immense relief that Ron was laying in the other bunk. They'd all made it back. He would not dwell on what Voldemort had done to his parents. Not now. "We got away."

She filled him in on their escape. Their incredibly close shave with Voldemort. "I honestly didn't know if we were going to make it out of there, Harry," she said, voice full of fear, as if they were still back in the burning cottage, choking on smoke.

"The snake!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. He had a vague and confused memory, a killing curse, Voldemort being incensed with rage... "Nagini. Did one of you kill it?"

"Ron," Hermione said, "Ron managed it, to save me. It was about to bite me in the neck, and he used the Killing Curse."

Harry couldn't believe it. They'd gotten rid of another Horcrux. It hadn't all been in vain. "That's ace," Harry said, grinning, pulling himself up into a sitting position, "Is he sleeping?" He turned back to see the seriousness in Hermione's face and he felt his stomach drop. "What's wrong?"

She explained the hex Voldemort had cast, Ron jumping to take the hit for him instead. "It's worse then the Splinching he had, but the dittany seems to be helping, just the same. He's not going to be able to walk though, not for another few weeks, at least."

Harry took that in, quelling his delight and relief that they'd finally managed some headway in their Horcrux quest. Ron had more than made up for his brief departure in Harry's mind. He didn't even want to _think_ about what would have happened if Ron hadn't been with them yesterday.

"And the locket's in my bag," Hermione told him. "I could tell you were about to ask. It was stuck to you, I had to jinx it off Harry, I'm sorry. You'll have a mark, I think."

Harry inspected his chest while Hermione graciously went to grab him a new shirt. Indeed, there was a red, locket-sized mark. Just another scar to remind him of Voldemort, he thought tolerantly as he pulled on the white t-shirt she handed him. To get rid of another Horcrux, it was worth it.

Hermione settled onto the foot of his bunk, she obviously had more to say. "And now for the other, er, _surprising_ news," she started, pulling some hair behind her ear, "It's about Malfoy. He's... back."

Confused, Harry opened his mouth but Hermione rushed on to explain: "Back in his normal, human body. But there's something else. And it's really... odd. I've never heard of it happening to anyone else before."

Harry just looked at her, waiting. He really could not even begin to guess what she was talking about, because it was a surprise enough that Malfoy was back to normal. He didn't even know how they were going to deal with that.

"You're going to have to spell it out for him, mudblood. He won't get it otherwise."

Harry jerked his head up and saw Malfoy, standing in the tent doors. Hair shortened to an almost military-like buzz cut, he didn't even look like himself. This was emphasized by the clothing he was wearing: a mixture of Harry and Ron's, none of it fitting quite right, which was an entirely different look than his usual tailored robes.

"Don't call her that again Malfoy," Harry said, kicking off the blanket and rising to his feet. The shock of seeing Malfoy in person, in their tent, was overshadowed by his annoyance and irritation that he'd dare use that word against his friend.

"Why not?" he returned, nose and cheeks red from the cold. "It's not like she can understand me anyway."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Harry said, then without waiting for an answer, he asked Hermione while keeping his glare on Malfoy: "Where's my wand?"

Hearing that, Malfoy's fists tightened at his side. Harry responded in kind.

"Hermione?"

Harry looked over when there was still no answer. She returned his gaze helplessly.

"My wand?"

"Oh, is that what you said?" Hermione reached into her jacket, handing it over. "Harry, you were speaking in Parseltongue before."

He kept his wand low, but ready. He had no idea what Hermione was talking about. "What?"

"Just now. With Malfoy. I couldn't understand a word you two were saying."

Before Harry could think of a response, Ron suddenly piped up from his bunk, "Knowing Malfoy, I bet it wasn't anything worth hearing anyway." He too, was holding his wand in a pale hand, and he looked very distrustful.

Malfoy lifted his chin, looking down at Harry pompously. He was the taller one, but still, it didn't have the effect he probably expected. It only served to give Harry a better look at his numerous markings and it emphasized the misfitting clothes he was wearing.

Harry lowered his wand completely, sensing no threat here. "So what. Can you only speak in Parseltongue, then?"

Malfoy looked enraged. At the question? To be so obviously dismissed as a non-threat? Harry wasn't sure but Malfoy didn't answer, instead turning around to disappear back outside.

Silence followed his exit, until Hermione broke it. "He seems only to be able to speak in Parseltongue," she said, answering Harry without even knowing it. "It's very strange."

"Do we know how he changed back?" Harry asked, thinking that might clear some things up.

"No. It happened at some point while we were gone. From what I could gather from his notes," she waved a hand over at the table, and Harry saw some scribblings on parchment paper spread about, "he has no idea why."

He walked over to the table, lifting a paper.

_**no, it just happened**_

_**are you really this stupid**_

_**I don't know just a cold feeling**_

_**don't know**_

_**don't know**_

_**you're an idiot**_

"Very helpful," Harry commented, crumpling it and throwing it onto the fire.

"Yes, and I'm afraid I got a little impatient with him," Hermione said, looking embarrassed. "I took the quill away... that's when he went outside."

"I don't blame you," he said. He noticed the kettle on the little stove. "Did you just make this?"

She nodded, and Harry poured himself a cup of tea, considering what to do next.

Hermione joined Ron on his bunk where they conferred quietly with each other. She was inspecting his wound, and he said something that made her laugh.

Ron killing Nagini, Voldemort's arguably most dangerous and hard-to-get-to Horcrux had seemed to change all their outlooks. It made the tent feel lighter. Their task more possible. Even Malfoy being back couldn't dampen their spirits. He sipped his tea, looking back towards the tent flap door.

Outside was a completely different mood, he knew. Malfoy was probably freezing his bollocks off. The clothes he was wearing, Ron's and Harry's least used, most moth-eaten, didn't look like they'd be doing much to protect him from the weather. The only thing keeping him warm at this point would be his anger.

He sighed, rolling the teacup about in his hands. He had not expected to have to really deal with Malfoy. It wasn't what he'd agreed to with Lupin. He'd thought they'd be housing a snake, a creature easy enough to ignore. Now, though... have Malfoy with them, as they hunted for Horcruxes? A Death Eater? Also, just an all-around git of a person?

What else were their choices? Unfortunately, they couldn't return him to the Order. That would basically be handing him back to Voldemort. He tried to think where else they could take him. Who could house him safely.

Harry set the half-empty cup down on the table. Next to it, was the book of the _The Tales of Beetle Bard_. He put a hand on it, sliding it closer. Hermione had left it open on the page with the little triangular symbol. The same one she'd pointed out to him, again, at his parent's graveyard. He gazed at it thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind.

"Whatdya' guys think of Luna's dad? Xenophilius?" Harry suddenly said, interrupting whatever conversation his friends had been having. He looked up from the book. "You trust him?"

Ron and Hermione shared a questioning glance.

"Well, he is always supporting you in The Quibbler," Ron said slowly, "so that's definitely a plus."

Hermione's brows were drawn together, looking from Harry to her book. She seemed excited though. "That symbol, you think it's important now too?"

Harry hadn't given much thought to it actually. The only importance it had to him was reminding him of Luna's dad because he'd worn it at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"Because I'd actually had the same thought Harry! But I didn't think like there was enough evidence yet to suggest it... You feel he might know something about the symbol too?"

"Maybe," he answered her noncommittally, "but the reason I'm asking is, you guys think he would be keen to keep Malfoy hidden away for us?"

"Oh. Well, I don't think anyone would suspect him being there," Hermione said, slightly put-out that he showed such little interest in her own train of thought, "but who knows if he'd be willing to put himself in that sort of danger?"

"Nah, practically every article in The Quibbler is telling people they should be doing whatever they can to help Harry Potter," Ron said emphatically. It was clear he was eager to be rid of Draco Malfoy and Harry's suggestion was providing them with quite a reasonable way to do so. "I don't think there's anyone better for the job. He'd have to be a right hypocrite to say no!"

There was a rush of freezing wind and Malfoy reappeared. Face still red with a nose to match. He stalked right by Harry, straight to the kettle to pour himself a cup. His hands were trembling from the cold, so he made a bit of a mess, tea splattering onto the floor.

Not bothering to clean it, he took his cup and settled down by the fire with his back facing them.

"And..." Hermione was the first to break the silence Malfoy's sudden and icy presence had created, "and while we're there, we can ask him about that symbol. See what he knows."

Harry wondered why she was so interested in this symbol, and he could see the same question reflected in Ron's face, but he didn't confront her about it. His only goal was putting the responsibility of Malfoy well-being on someone else. "All right. Now we need to find out where the Lovegood's live. Do either of you know?"

"Yeah, they're not far from my place," said Ron. "I dunno exactly where, but Mum and Dad always point toward the hills whenever they mention them. Reckon it shouldn't be hard to find."

Harry pointed down at Ron's leg. "You're gonna' have to draw us a map or something, mate. You're not going anywhere on that."

Ron looked mildly frustrated at this, but he could say nothing in response. The wound was still too fresh and deep to be traipsing along on as they searched for the Lovegood's home.

"You're very naive to think he's going to agree to this. But I know where he lives," Malfoy spoke in Parseltongue, voice emotionless. "No need for a map."

The three of them turned to look at his back, hunched close to the fire. He must have been able to overhear their plans when he was outside. "You do?" asked Harry, ignoring Malfoy's earlier comment.

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "You really think the Death Eaters aren't keeping tabs on the editor of The Quibbler? Don't think they'd want to know his home address?"

"I think we'll have Ron draw a map, just the same," Harry said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

It seemed every time Malfoy opened his mouth, he was reinforcing to Harry he was someone who couldn't be trusted. A bigot. A Death Eater.

Harry brought Ron some parchment and Hermione produced her quill that she'd hidden away from Malfoy in her robes. Ron got to work creating his map while they made plans to leave the following morning. Hermione was excited about finding out as much as she could about that little mark that kept popping up, but she was trying her best not to be too obvious. It was clear Ron was upset that he wouldn't be going and Malfoy would. Harry guessed Ron didn't like the idea of not being there to defend her if Malfoy tried something.

Harry resolved to pull him aside at some point before they left tomorrow, just to reassure Ron he wouldn't let anything happen to her. That even without Harry looking out for her, Malfoy would be wandless, while Hermione had proven time and again to be quite the formidable witch.

While they discussed things, Malfoy continued to sit at the fireplace. He was running a hand over his shaved head, looking grim. Sometimes he would glance over at them, but mostly he'd just gaze into the flames.

It did not make Harry comfortable.

* * *

_This chapter was named after a song by Tame Impala_


	8. It Is What It Is

Please review! Thanks!

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_**It Is What It Is**_

Draco couldn't release their hands any faster. "It'll be up there," he pointed, past a few rolling hills as he stepped away from between the two. "And we'd already be there if you'd trusted me instead of Weasley's crudely drawn _map_. Don't know if you can even call it that really-"

"Let's go," Potter interrupted, starting forward. Granger scampered up behind him, and after a moment watching them both, Draco slowly followed behind.

He'd had to side-along Apparate numerous times with them already, miles across the landscape. Starting at the tottering shack that Weasley called a home, then randomly here or there, as Weasley had marked down so many X's where he thought the Lovegood's house may be. Draco though, had a pretty good idea of where it was, but even as they Apparated about, Potter hadn't been keen to listen.

Draco thought it was stupid himself, because really, what was the worst he could do, point them in the wrong direction? It's not like he could confer with other Death Eaters to plan something. If he contacted them they'd kill him before he'd be able to say a word, he was sure. Not that he _could_ say a word to them with this whole Parseltongue thing...

"Oh, that has to be it, doesn't it?"

He looked to see Granger pointing upward, where a most strange-looking house rose vertically against the afternoon sky, a great black cylinder with a moon-like object hanging behind it.

Potter led the way through the gate, past the home-made signs and tacky decorations that scattered the unkempt and overgrown yard. Draco thought Xenophilius ought to be ashamed of himself for keeping it looking like this. Unlike the Weasley's, even he should be able to afford a house-elf.

"Hello! Who's that there?"

Draco and the others turned to see an older wizard dressed in gardening clothes, complete with a ridiculously oversized hat in the color of scarlet. As they drew nearer, Draco could see it was indeed the cross-eyed father of Luna Lovegood whom he'd seen before and recognized from the pages of The Quibbler.

"Hello sir, I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Potter said sycophantically, holding out a hand when Lovegood removed the large polka-dotted gloves from his.

Xenophilius shook the hand with enthusiasm, smiling. "Why, yes, yes it is! Goodness, quite the surprise! Good to see you again! But we must get you inside, all of you, it wouldn't do well to have you seen out here-"

He ushered them past the porch, through his front door. Draco found himself in a kitchen that looked like it had been decorated by a madman. The colors were overwhelming and he found the layout to be stifling and quite uncomfortable.

Lovegood busied himself with throwing together some tea and biscuits that Draco resolved not to partake in, since the man hadn't even removed his dirty apron before starting.

As this was going on, there was a loud, repeated banging coming from somewhere above them. "What the hell is that noise?"

Potter sent an annoyed look in his direction, apparently forgetting that he was the only one who could understand Draco. It's not like he'd offended the old coot. "Mr. Lovegood, is Luna here?" Potter asked, "Is that her upstairs?"

"What?" the old man said, not bothering to turn around, "Oh, no no, that's the printing press. Luna's still at Hogwarts for another few weeks before Christmas holidays. We're all fighting the good fight for you Harry! Did you know Luna and her friends at school have a little coalition against that Severus Snape? Oh, they're just constantly causing trouble for him." He turned around, holding a large tray. "I'm very proud of her. Please, follow me upstairs, and you can tell me why you're here."

Potter and Granger shared a glance. They looked quite pleased with themselves, thinking they'd found the right person to take Draco off their hands. Draco was pretty apathetic about it himself. Potter and his friends? The Lovegood's? Where he was didn't matter to him. None of it mattered to him. He really did not care. He only needed a wand, and he planned to get one at some point. When he had that, he knew, someway, he might be able to rescue his mum. It was a start, at least.

They went up a tight, spiral staircase, leading to yet another room filled with home-made monstrosities. Models of random magical creatures. Books everywhere. Draco almost felt like it was sixth-year at Hogwarts all over again and he was stuck in that damned Room of Requirement. Lovegood's house seemed to have the same amount of junk, anyway.

Lovegood settled them down in some chairs, and then he went to throw a tablecloth on top of his clattering, ancient printing press, muffling the distracting noises somewhat.

He then joined them in their circle, crossing his legs. "Now, what might I help you with Harry Potter?"

"Well," said Potter, glancing at Granger, who gave him an encouraging nod, "I guess it's about that symbol you were wearing around your neck at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Mr. Lovegood." Draco realized they were going to find out as much as they could about whatever that symbol was before carefully easing Lovegood into the oh-so delicate subject of housing a Death Eater for them. "We wondered what it meant."

"Are you referring to the sign of the Deathly Hallows?"

What followed this comment was perhaps the most tiresome forty minutes of Draco's life.

They questioned Lovegood a bit about what the Hallows were and then Draco was forced to listen to Granger read a child's fairy tale aloud. Literally. It was absolutely absurd. In the middle of it, he pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the window of the room, leaning on the pane, trying to control his irritation. As Granger eventually finished, he wondered if this was what Potter and his friends usually did when fighting the Dark Lord. Listened to children tales and then tried to make them fit into real-life situations.

Now they were discussing how the The Tale of the Three Brothers was actually about the Deathly Hallows. It went on and on. The absurdity of it. His impatience was building.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Potter, it's just a parable!" Draco spat heatedly, turning from the window. "Surely you can understand that?"

Potter and Granger looked up, surprised. As if they'd forgotten Draco was in the room at all, so engrossed by the fairy tale and their discussion of how it fit into the Deathly Hallows they'd been.

Lovegood's focus had also turned to Malfoy now. "Is something wrong with your friend's tongue? Oh, was he bitten by a Jaxwin? Those can cause a severe allergic reaction to the mouth region."

"No, he's fine," Potter said, trying to direct the subject back, "so is that all there is to the Deathly Hallows sir? The cloak, the wand, and the stone?"

"Indeed. Just like I showed you in the symbol," he said, but he hadn't moved his eyes from Draco. "You know, you look familiar, but I can't place it... a relative of yours, Harry?"

"Close," Draco replied sarcastically. He didn't think Potter and himself could look any more different. This man was a loony.

Potter seemed to realize that Lovegood was done on the topic of the Hallows, though. He sat up in his chair, scooting forward. "Actually, he's the other reason we wanted to visit you today... a favor to ask."

Lovegood no longer had such a friendly air about him. Now there was suspicion in his cross-eyes as he looked Draco up and down.

"My vision isn't the best, you know. It seems my mail order Gwindey-infused drops aren't working as quickly as they're supposed to at improving my eyesight, but..." his gaze stopped on Draco's forearm, which he'd been resting on the windowsill with the sleeve drawn up. Not on purpose, of course, but now it was too late and he didn't bother to pull it down. "Harry Potter, you... you didn't bring a Death Eater into my home, did you?" the old man's voice went high-pitched at the end, and he looked almost ready to start crying.

It'd been a while since Draco had seen Potter look as uncomfortable as he did right now. He was shifting in his chair, looking back and forth between Draco and Lovegood, face full of consternation. "Well, yes, actually..."

Granger jumped in to save Potter as he trailed off, words leaving him when he saw Lovegood's horrified face. "But he's not an active Death Eater! He's been placed in our care but we don't have the resources or the time to watch-"

"Not an active-? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you need to leave!" Lovegood cried out hysterically, "N-now!"

"But sir-"

"No, no, do you know how many death threats I get in the post? People that are angry that I dare talk badly about the Ministry! How worried I am for my Luna's safety, everyday? I can't have that- that monster in my home! He could call the other Death Eater's at any second! Oh, oh no... I've read how it works! All he needs is to put a wand to that mark, I know it!"

"No wand here." Malfoy held up his hands to show they were empty, but this only seemed to make the old man freak out even more. "I don't think your plan is working out so well, Potter."

"Shut up Malfoy!" Potter bit-out. He was on his feet now, trying anything he could to calm Lovegood. "Sir, you don't understand-"

"Why are you hissing the same way that Death Eater is?!"

"You've really done it now," Draco said. Lovegood had drawn his wand. He wasn't pointing it at anyone yet, but you could tell he was ready to.

"Maybe... maybe you're not really Harry Potter! Maybe this is a trick!"

"It's not a trick-"

"I don't believe you!"

"_Mr. Lovegood calm down_!" Granger yelled, sharply. She sounded almost exactly like an impatient McGonagall. The room fell into silence, there was so much authority behind that voice. "Now, you said you supported Harry Potter, no matter what, and that's why we came here today. We needed help."

Lovegood had the grace to look embarrassed now. "But I-"

"So, Harry will ask you, one more time," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "and then you have to live with yourself, and explain to Luna why you refused to help us, if that's what you choose." She looked over to Potter, giving him a nod. "Harry?"

Potter took a breath, then picked it up, "You talk about having death threats, Mr. Lovegood. And what do you think I live with everyday? My friends? You say one thing in your paper, but when I'm here, actually asking for the help that you tell others they should give me, no matter the cost... well." Potter stopped. He waved a hand in Draco's direction. "I need help. Will you keep him here, or no?"

Lovegood wouldn't meet his eyes. He stared down at his hands, and you could tell he'd only now just realized he'd been ready to brandish his wand against the oh so famous Harry Potter. He looked deeply ashamed.

"I'm sorry Harry, but he needs to go," Lovegood said, "if _you_ wanted to stay here it would be a different-"

Potter gazed at the old man silently for a moment. "Thank you for your time," he said eventually. "Goodbye Mr. Lovegood."

With that, Potter and Granger strode out of the room. Like they'd practiced it, it was such a smooth exit. Draco followed slowly behind. He could feel Lovegood's eyes on his back the entire time.

He wasn't surprised that Lovegood wouldn't take him in. He'd predicted that outcome to Potter back in the tent when they'd first brought up their naive plan. But it had really happened. He, Draco Malfoy, had fallen so far as to be denied a room by the likes of Xenophilius Lovegood. Truly, he was an outcast. There was no where he was wanted. Draco had been doing a good job ignoring that, or at least, remaining apathetic and uncaring about it, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't feeling a little raw right now. Alone.

Potter and Granger were waiting for him at the threshold of the front door. He could see they'd been talking animatedly but immediately stopped as he approached.

Draco clamped down on his hurt feelings, feeling stupid. It was ridiculous. Why should he care? He was not one of them and he didn't want to be.

They made their way down the path, then he was once again forced to hold their hands so he could side-along Disapparate back to their campsite.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by The Highwaymen_


	9. The Monster

Sorry for the delay in this chapter!

Please review. I love hearing all your thoughts/opinions.

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER NINE**

_**The Monster**_

They'd moved on to another campsite. Hermione had said it was called The Forest of Dean and that she'd stayed here with her family once before. It was still a white landscape of snow, but with far less wind; the weather was fair enough that they could chat outside.

"Cowardly old wart!" was Ron's immediate reaction after being told what had happened. His injured leg was propped up on an old cushion he'd found, so it wasn't lying in the snow. "How did Luna get raised by _that _guy?"

Harry shook his head, unable to answer, having wondered the same thing himself.

After they finished bad-mouthing Xenophilius Lovegood, subject matter turned to the Deathly Hallows. Now that they were back with Ron, Harry felt they could really delve into the topic from all sides. Hermione had been incredulous from the moment Lovegood had started explaining it. When Harry had tried to ask him a question or get clarification on something, she'd jump in and try to explain it away. He'd been annoyed, especially now that he was wearing the locket again, but he knew that was just how her brain worked. Logical to a fault, so he didn't hold it against her.

"You were the one who wanted us to show some interest in the mark, Hermione," he pointed out to her now, as they sat outside the tent.

She looked back at him, exasperated. A bit annoyed that he'd reminded her of that. "Yes,_ interest_ Harry, not... not- well, it's no longer relevant!"

So they talked. The cloak, the wand, the stone. Ron and Hermione were really the ones who discussed it. Harry listened, chiming in here and there, but mostly sat in silence, taking in both their viewpoints, feeling the Horcrux pulse against his chest all the while.

Eventually it was decided by the two that, in the end, it was as Malfoy had pointed out earlier- a parable.

"It's just a morality tale," Hermione was saying, "it's obvious which gift is best, which one you'd choose-"

They spoke at the same moment: Hermione said, "the Cloak," Ron said, "the wand," and Harry said, "the stone."

They looked at each other in mixtures of surprise and amusement.

"Shockingly, Weasley's got it right on that one," Malfoy drawled from somewhere back in the tent.

Harry didn't bother to translate what Malfoy had said for the others, because Ron and Hermione hadn't heard him anyway, and they were already off and running again. Arguing now about who's choice was better.

The discussion eventually wound down to an end. Especially as the sun set and it dropped a few degrees.

Harry stood, and he and Hermione helped Ron to his feet, leading him inside.

"I'll take first watch," Harry said, wanting some time alone to think about all that had been said. Ron tossed him his jacket and Harry slipped it on over his and went back outside.

It was hours later when it happened. Mulling over his thoughts, tugging on the Horcrux chain distractedly, Harry almost didn't see it at first.

A bright silver light, moving through the trees ahead. Seeming to glide towards him... it almost looked familiar...

* * *

A loud whistling filled the air, destroying the formerly calm silence of the tent. Draco blinked himself awake, jerking up from the slumped position he'd taken, having fallen asleep in the plush chair.

Madly flashing colors filled the dark, and it took him a moment to realize both the flashing lights and the horrible noise were coming from the same source. A spinning object on the table across from him.

"The Sneakoscope!" Granger's voice cut through the darkness. "Ron, someone must be outside!"

Weasley already had his wand in his hand. "Harry!" he yelled. He was frantically trying to get up, holding the bunk frame to stay upright. "Hermione," he said when there was no answer, "help me check to see if he's still out there!"

Draco, also on his feet now, watched them totter over to the tent opening. Standing there, wandless, no clue of what threat lay outside, made him feel terribly vulnerable. He had half a mind to follow them outside, but the unknown danger stopped him.

The Sneakoscope was still doing its thing, and Draco badly wished he could set a blasting curse upon it to shut the damn thing up.

"Remove me from this satchel at once! I have a message to deliver! Terribly urgent!"

With a jump, Draco turned towards the muffled, barely heard voice. "Posthaste!" it yelled again, and even in his panic, he felt a spark of recognition. The voice was coming from a large beaded bag- the very same bag he'd gone through before, the night of his transformation back to a human. He knew it must be that same pompous portrait.

He was unsure what to do. He didn't trust that painting, he didn't want to go outside... so he stood there feeling useless in his indecision.

Through the bag, he heard the portrait make a noise of frustration and impatience. "You must go into the forest and follow the doe! Follow the doe so you can save your friend! Harry Potter is in trouble! No time to waste!"

Draco was shocked. Potter was in some sort of trouble? He remained unmoving for a moment longer. Didn't know how to react.

"He needs help! His very life hinges in the balance!"

Draco stared at the bag.

Deep down- very, _very_, deep down- a tiny little hope had begun forming inside Draco, back when he'd been stuck with the Order in the body of a snake, feeling utterly desperate. A hope that Potter would somehow manage to actually do something about Voldemort. If Voldemort was destroyed, it would free his mum. It would free him. It had been a thought that was always in the back of his mind.

But that wouldn't happen if Potter died right now, would it?

He shook himself loose of his hesitancy. He could at least warn them, he supposed. Draco ran to the opening, pulling it open. "Hey!" he yelled, waving at Granger and Weasley, who were standing close, peering into the darkness. Like they were trying to find footprints. It was snowing though, and who knew how long Potter had been gone.

Granger looked over at him, but Weasley remained with his eyes scanning the trees.

Draco wasn't sure what to do now that he had her attention though. How to tell her...? He pointed out into the forest, eyebrows up. "Go," he said, feeling a bit daft, because he knew his voice was coming out in weird hisses and she had no idea what he was trying to say, "he's in there! Look for a deer!"

Granger looked where he was pointing, then back at him, appearing immensely confused.

Draco grit his teeth in frustration, unsure of how to proceed. Disappearing back into the tent, he thought for a moment, then grabbed the bag, ripping it open and pulling out the portrait. Holding it out in front of him, he rushed back outside.

"What are you doing!?" Granger exclaimed with fear in her voice, which surprised him. "No, no no!"

"Malfoy you idiot!" Weasley had his wand pointed at him now. "Put it face-down on the ground!" he demanded.

Draco ignored him, flipping the painting around to himself, wondering why it wasn't yelling about Potter needing help anymore. To his utter dismay, all he saw was a brown backdrop. The painting was empty.

"Malfoy that portrait is a direct link to someone close to Voldemort," Granger said, voice tight, "put it down so it can't see us!"

"I'm trying to help you, you morons!" Draco yelled, fed-up, throwing the painting hard into the snow. They were both staring at him now, full of suspicion. Like he was the one that had set off that Sneakoscope. Like he was the one that had done something to Potter.

Draco left them there, giving one last look at the trees before stalking back into the tent. What could he do? Go into the forest by himself? Run around aimlessly looking for a deer without even a wand to protect himself?

Just as the thought of a wand crossed his mind, his eyes happened to fall onto Weasley's bunk. There was something tucked into the corner, obviously meant to be hidden under his pillow, but Weasley had gotten up in such a rush, he must not have realized...

Draco really couldn't believe his eyes.

He rushed forward, throwing the pillow aside in his haste.

A wand!

It shot out a small burst of green fireworks as soon as he'd wrapped his hand around the thin, dark, stick. A real wand! He was ecstatic. As he examined it from all angles, he wondered why and how Weasley had gotten his hands on an extra wand. But he didn't really care. He had a wand!

As he internally celebrated, he could hear Granger and Weasley outside- wondering what to do, if Potter was okay, why had Malfoy done that with the painting?

Draco slipped the wand into his pocket. He strode back to the opening, walking right by Weasley and Granger. Not bothering to look at them.

"Where are you going?" Granger said from behind him, confused. "There's probably someone out there!

"Malfoy, seriously-"

"You shouldn't go out there alone-!"

He slipped through their wards and the voices were immediately silenced. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the campsite was now completely invisible. He tightened the oversized jacket he was wearing around himself and kept moving.

Into the trees he went. It was a very dark night, and the further he progressed, the darker it got. Finally he pulled out his wand, whispering, "_Lumos_."

It was quickly becoming apparent to him that it would be impossible to find any creature in this forest at night. A deer _or_ Potter.

He stumbled over a tree root that had been shadowed and unseen. A nearby tree trunk saved him from a fall, but he was beginning to become disheartened. To feel a bit foolish. What was he playing at? Trying to do the hero role? He sighed and pushed off the tree, unsure if he should start again or start thinking of a new plan that involved Apparating somewhere far away and leaving Potter to his fate.

As he toyed with that idea, he saw something. Not too far off, a flickering light.

"_Nox_," Draco said quietly, and his wand went dark. Slowly and carefully, he made his approach forward.

It was the deer the portrait had been shouting about. Had to be. He recognized it as a Patronus, though he'd only seen a few in his life. He'd never seen one as dimly lit as this. It looked like it was about to disappear at any second. It was kicking a foot, staring directly at him. It appeared like it wanted to come forward, but something was stopping it. As if there were an invisible line it couldn't cross.

Draco came nearer and the deer turned, tossing its head. It was flickering madly, but he could tell it wanted him to follow, just as the portrait had indicated it would. He wondered what he would find. Was Potter in some sort of duel with Death Eaters? If he was, Draco didn't know what he would do. He'd have to hang back, of course. See how it was playing out first.

The deer moved swiftly and Draco was nearly at a jog. It seemed as if the Patronus was on a time-limit. Like it knew its power was almost gone. He had to use his wand light again to keep from tripping over more roots and bushes.

The Patronus was dimming drastically and by the time it led him to a clearing with a small pool of water, all that was left of it was just the vaguest of outlines. Draco saw it fade away before his eyes. Its time had come to an end.

He looked around, nervous, wand held at the ready. His ears were straining, but all he heard was the soft sounds of the forest around him.

Then, a great splashing that made him jump, followed by a desperate gasp and more splashing.

Draco rushed forward and saw churning water, pale, white hands struggling madly. It was Potter. This was why the doe had led him here. All around the edge of the pool were claw marks in the snow and mud, where Potter had obviously been trying to get enough purchase to pull himself up, unsuccessfully.

Draco reached down and grabbed his wrists, pulling. It was just enough that Potter got another gasping mouthful of air, but the majority of his face was still underwater. He pulled harder, but it seemed to be to no avail. Then, by some force unseen by him, Potter was jerked back again. Bubbles came from his nose and mouth as he was ripped down into the pool, and out of Draco's grasp.

Through the crystalline water, he saw Potter's hands go to his neck, scrabbling, trying to find a hold. It took a moment, but then Draco realized what he was going for. A golden, sparking chain reflecting in the moonlight, pulled taut across his windpipe.

He held his wand out, down in the water, taking careful aim for a severing charm. It was no use though, Potter was thrashing way too much, making it impossible to have a clear shot.

He sat back, frustrated, watching Potter's struggle.

Dark thoughts reared up inside him though, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help thinking, calculating, if their might be advantages to him if Potter died in this way...

The water churned and splashed as Potter writhed against the chain.

Sighing, Draco pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to explore it further. He despised Potter, but he didn't necessarily want to watch him die. Not while his mother's life still hung in the balance and Potter's knowledge and melodramatic Gryffindor tendencies might make the difference.

He leaned forward again, plunging his arm down into the icy depths, trying to get another shot.

Potter surprised him though, one of his hands wrapped around Draco's wrist and gave a mighty and desperate pull. In that split-second Draco scrabbled back for something to hold onto, but it was useless- he was yanked down into the water.

There was an immediate reaction of protest from his body. His lungs seemed to be paralyzed and his nerves were like ice. Instinctively, Draco's legs gave a kick, wanting to go back up to the surface to escape this agony. But instead, he controlled the knee-jerk reaction, allowing his body to sink down next to the drowning Potter.

He didn't hesitate; reaching forward quickly, grabbing the chain of the egg-sized bauble that was holding Potter down. He aimed and wordlessly cast a spell. Red light shot from his wand and the chain shattered into pieces.

Potter weakly kicked, trying to swim now that his anchor was gone. But he didn't move much. Draco roughly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him along.

They broke the surface.

Potter was gagging, swallowing, and making all sorts of disgusting noises. Draco moved them to the side where the curve into the pool wasn't as drastic, and he shoved Potter up and over the edge. There was no resistance from him and he flopped down onto his bare stomach like a fish and remained still, groaning.

Draco made to follow him, freezing beyond anything he'd ever felt before, but just as he began to lift himself he saw something from the corner of his eye. Down in the water, below him. A silver sword was laying at the bottom, the hilt covered with ornate markings and glittering jewels.

It must have been what Potter was after.

"_A-Accio_ sword!" he said, teeth chattering. The weapon remained frustratingly still. He considered leaving it where it was, but decided he should just go grab it. He was still in the water, and it was obviously worth something. Enough that Potter was willing to nearly drown for it, anyway.

He dove back down and as he grabbed the sword's hilt, he wondered if maybe it had the same jinx that Potter's necklace had been under, and he was afraid he'd made a stupid mistake. But no. The sword came up easily and with no resistance.

He broke the surface again.

As he sat across the pond from Potter's nearly-naked shivering form, Draco noticed the pile of Potter's clothes, over at the edge of the treeline, still dry. Sitting in the soggy mess of his own clothes, which were getting colder by the second, Draco bitterly considered how he might have done the same if Potter hadn't pulled him in.

Potter's hacking and gagging was finally subsiding a bit.

"Well, that was s-stupid of you," Draco said in a drawling tone, examining the sword in his lap, "going off without even telling your friends."

Potter turned his head, looking over at him. Shock was written all over his features. "_M__-M__alfoy_?"

Draco managed a smirk, pleased at the reaction.

Potter stared for another second, seeming to gather his wits about him. "D-did y-you see who cast that d-doe?" he asked eventually, shivering madly. His voice was low and raw, like his throat had been damaged with all that coughing.

Draco looked back down at the sword, appreciating the length and sharpness of the blade. "Actually, no I didn't. I thought you had."

A deathly pale Potter struggled to his hands and knees, crawling towards his clothes and things. He looked utterly exhausted. And now Draco could see the long line of blood dripping from his neck, staining the snow. The chain had cut deep. No doubt he'd been in that water, battling for air, for a long time.

Potter started pulling on his shirt and trousers. He was shivering so badly he was having a difficult time of it. Draco's own trembling wasn't as severe, but he knew if he didn't get back to the campsite and next to a fire soon, it wouldn't be long before he was as bad off as Potter.

"How d-did you find...? Where's...?"

"How did I find you?" Draco guessed when Potter seemed too tired to finish his questions. He set the sword by his side, rubbing at his shortened hair, thinking his head had probably never been this cold in his life. "Where's Weasley and the mud-" he stopped himself, not in the mood for another sermon about the word. And Potter would probably start one, even in his current condition. "Granger?"

"Yeah."

"I followed the Patronus. And your fellow _Gryffindors_," he drawled, "are waiting for you nice and warm back at camp. Not very _brave_ of them, hm?"

Potter shook his head, but it wasn't in answer to Draco's sarcastic question. It was more of a dismissive gesture.

Draco laughed. Of course Potter didn't believe him. "Well, don't worry, you can ask them yourself!" he said. "See what they s-say."

"I will," Potter replied calmly and quietly. Most likely, he had no energy to get worked up, with a throat too sore to raise his voice. "Where's the locket?"

From his pocket, Draco produced the palm-sized trinket. It was gold, decorated with glittering green stones around a fancy and ornate letter 'S'. It felt exceedingly hot against his hand, like something that was alive and suffering from a fever. He put his other hand around it, cupping it to warm them. "What's inside this thing?"

"Don't know yet," Potter said, voice sounding full of gravel, "nothing good though."

Draco held it in both hands. The locket seemed to pulse with power. And, he thought maybe... yes, he could feel a subtle movement. Like a heartbeat.

"Toss it here." Potter had his hand held out.

Draco ignored him. Almost didn't hear him. Interestingly enough, he didn't feel cold anymore. The ornament was heating him all over, like a cloak being wrapped very tightly around him.

From far off, he thought he heard Potter say something again, but the locket's pulsing heartbeat demanded his attention and he couldn't look away. For some reason, he felt like this locket was the answer to all his problems. A confidence he'd never felt came over him and Draco licked his lips, saying in a whisper, "We should open it-"

As soon as the word 'open' crossed his lips, the locket's two sides came apart with a click, the little doors swinging wide to reveal a set of brown eyes staring back at him.

He was entranced. The eyes were looking directly into his soul, he felt. And somehow it made him feel stronger. "I know your desires..." it said calmly and smoothly. Draco thought it was a voice that sounded almost like his own. "You should have left him in the water... let him die... then delivered his body to the Dark Lord... he would have granted your mother her freedom... you, your own immunity..."

Draco listened, mouth slightly open. Hearing his own dark thoughts that he'd had earlier, but ignored, now spoken aloud filled him with a certainty that it must be true. For the price of Potter, he and his mother could be _free_, free from the war, from Voldemort, from everything. "It's not too late... lift the sword, now!"

Draco couldn't resist. Keeping his eyes on the locket, he put his hand down to his side, searching for the hilt- but it was gone.

He managed to tear his eyes from the entrancing gaze and looked up. Potter was standing above him now, shivering madly, but he had taken the sword. He held it at his side.

"_Your wand_!" the locket reminded him, voice sharp and demanding. Draco could not resist its orders. The voice no longer resembled Draco's, it was now more like Voldemort himself, and he couldn't deny it.

Desperately he searched the ground around him, but found nothing. He started feeling at his pockets.

"_Accio_ locket!" said Potter's voice.

The locket strained at his fingers and though Draco tried to hold on, it broke free. "No!" he yelled. Had that been the locket or him? Both? Draco didn't know.

Instead of trying to catch it, Potter took the sword in both hands and swung. The glittering, golden piece of jewelry was sliced in two. The separate halves went flying off in opposite directions, little vapors of smoke in their wake.

Draco blinked, feeling like a heavy veil had just been pulled off his eyes. The stifling heat he'd felt was gone. He was now aware of being absolutely freezing, his sodden clothes like ice upon his skin.

Worse than that though, was losing the confidence he'd had. For two minutes he'd had an all-encompassing assurance that everything would be okay and it was the best he'd felt in months, maybe years. So _p__ositive_ that he and his mother would somehow both get out of this alive and safe.

Now he was left with nothing. There was only Potter, staring down at him in silence as the night wind blew snow around them.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Eminem_


	10. Wake Me Up

Sorry for the delay!

and for the person who asked: the chapter titles/songs are chosen because of either certain lyrics that I feel pertain to the events of a chapter, or just the overall _feel_ of a song. I think this story would make a bitchin mixtape myself, lol

* * *

**No Church in the Wild**

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Wake Me Up**

Harry, on watch outside the tent, rubbed at his neck, holding up Hermione's hand mirror as he admired the magic the dittany had already worked, pleased to see it was almost completely healed. The new skin tender still, but only a few shades lighter than the rest.

His friends had been very shocked upon seeing him carrying Godric Gryffindor's sword when he and Malfoy returned from the forest yesterday. They'd rushed up, demanding an explanation. When Harry explained Malfoy's side of the story, that he'd only been trying to tell them Harry needed help, Hermione's reaction had been to apologize profusely. She'd reached into her pocket and gave Malfoy her quill, forcing it into his hand and telling him he could have it, just in case something like that ever happened again.

Malfoy had accepted it, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. Harry knew he was still thinking about what had happened back by that pool of water, and when Harry went on to tell them the second part of the story, he hesitated. Unsure of how to describe the bit where Malfoy had been possessed by the Horcrux. For that's what it had looked like to Harry. Malfoy's eyes had even flashed a scarlet-red color while listening to Riddle's voice; the smooth, silky words trying to convince him to kill Harry.

He still wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. Malfoy had just gotten finished saving his life, going through a good deal of trouble to do so, and Harry didn't take that lightly. But almost immediately Malfoy had then turned around and been ready to kill him.

Eventually Harry had given them a somewhat vague explanation: that the Horcrux had affected Malfoy, pretty badly, but that Harry had managed to destroy it without much problem.

"Right, well, thanks for saving Harry's life," Ron had said to Malfoy after a short pause, though he hadn't sounded very grateful at all, more begrudging, "now give me back my extra wand."

At this, Malfoy exploded.

It had surprised all of them. They'd been calmly sitting around the fire- but as soon as Ron demanded his wand be returned, an enraged Malfoy reacted by jumping to his feet, looming over Ron and unloading insult upon insult. Insulting Ron's mother, his house, his lack of money, his Quidditch skills- everything.

Recovering quickly from his shock, Ron struggled up to his feet too, face growing red with anger. Even though he couldn't understand a word, he'd already had six years of putting up with Malfoy and his unending taunts and he didn't need a translator at this point.

"-barely qualify as a Wizard!" Malfoy spit, looking almost out of his mind, "A family of dirt poor, worthless, scumsuckers! Low status, the lot of you, no magical skill worth noting -!"

"-just a Slytherin piece of trash!" Ron was yelling at the same time, cheeks flaming, "Yeah you saved Harry but just look down at your arm! That's all that you are and that's all you'll ever-"

They continued, getting louder and angrier. It escalated to a point where Malfoy took a step forward, looking ready to tackle him, and Ron swung a fist.

"_Protego_!" Hermione cried just as Harry had been about to jump in.

An invisible shield erupted between them before any hits could land. The force of it knocked them both stumbling back, and while Malfoy caught himself easily, Ron's bad leg crumpled and he about toppled over before Harry managed to catch him.

Malfoy's hand was clenching spasmodically on his wand and he was breathing hard. He looked off-balance, like he was barely keeping it together, face going through a myriad of emotions. The possession of the locket had obviously affected him very deeply.

Harry looked away, back to Ron. "He'll keep the wand for now, all right Ron? Just... just for now, okay?"

"Harry, I don't trust him!" Ron said, pushing from him and standing on his own feet again, "I know something else happened out there, with that locket, something you're not telling us-"

"He saved my life, Ron," he reminded him in a rasp, pointing at the deep, bloody gash that wound across his neck, "I was a goner. I wasn't going to last another minute in there when Malfoy showed up."

Ron gazed down at the mark. He looked distressed, and Harry knew it stemmed from the fact that he hadn't been the one to find Harry. To save his friend. Disconcerted that it had been _Malfoy_ of all people. Finally though, Ron gave a reluctant answer. "All right. All right, then. Fine."

Malfoy still looked like he was having trouble. He'd watched the exchange in silence. "Have your guard dog take down the shield so I can go to bed, Potter," he said, voice straining as he nodded his head towards Hermione. He avoided eye contact with all of them. "I'm a bit tired after pulling your arse out of that water, and all."

All of this went through Harry's head as he sat outside the tent. He put down Hermione's mirror, looking out into the midday landscape. They'd finally Apparated somewhere that wasn't covered in snow. But it was muddy and wet.

Ron and Hermione had left, going to the nearest town under Harry's invisibility cloak to try and find some food and to give Ron's healing leg a work out at the same time.

There were a lot of question marks surrounding events that had happened so far on this journey. Who had sent that Patronus, leading him to the one thing they needed to destroy Horcruxes? Had it really been Phineas Nigellus in that portrait, warning them that Harry was in trouble? Ron and Hermione hadn't seen him, and the portrait had been left in the snow long enough that the canvas had been destroyed- no more Phineas visits for them. What about the Deathly Hallows? And how had Malfoy changed back into a human?

"Hey," Harry called back over his shoulder, "busy?"

"Oh yeah. Got loads to do in here." It took a few minutes, but Malfoy eventually appeared at the tent opening, holding open one of the flaps and looking bored. It was probably the only reason he'd come out there. "What," he asked flatly, looking down at him.

"Explain to me," Harry said, "exactly how it happened when you turned back into a human. I know you said before-"

Malfoy's lip curled. "This isn't _story time_, if that's your fancy go read one of Granger's books. I'm not in the mood."

Harry felt determined to clear up at least one of these mysteries, and he wouldn't let it drop so easily. "Malfoy, it's important. Was there anything that stuck out to you?"

"The whole event stuck out to me," he said scornfully, as if Harry was the stupidest person he'd ever met.

"Just think about it for a second," Harry ground out, trying for some patience that he wasn't sure he had in him. "Anything strange? A bit off?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No, no I don't think so, just an everyday event to be turned back into a human when you've been stuck in the body of a snake for months upon month-" Suddenly a spark of recognition flitted across his face and he stopped his sarcastic ranting.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Actually, I heard something..." He trailed off, looking a bit unsure. "But I mean, I thought it was just me imagining it at the time..."

"Yeah?" Harry said, sitting up straighter. This was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "What did you hear?"

Malfoy shook his head, looking annoyed at himself. "No. Never mind."

"Stop," Harry said. Malfoy was retreating back inside. "Say it, what did you hear? It could mean something."

"Fine, fine, I heard the Dark Lord, all right? I – I thought I heard him screaming."

Harry now felt his own lip curling at Malfoy's use of 'the dark lord', but he decided not to comment. "You heard him screaming? What was he screaming?"

"Just screaming, Potter!" he said impatiently. "Like he was really angry. I don't know, I was probably imagining it, like I said-"

"No, wait!" Harry interrupted him, thinking quickly. "I think, I think that was the same time when we killed Nagini! Yeah, it must've been! Maybe that's why the spell broke on you- Voldemort was too distracted to hold it properly... Too angry." He wished Hermione was here to confirm if that was possible. Malfoy was staring at him uncomprehendingly. "You've never heard of distraction causing a spell to fail like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Malfoy said uncertainly. Then his face changed, looking bitter. "But the spell didn't fail completely did it? I'm still speaking in Parseltongue, aren't I?"

"Well, maybe Voldemort managed to re-focus at the last second, just enough to keep that bit on you." Harry was sure he'd found the answer. "I'd bet he probably doesn't even realize you're not transformed anymore."

Malfoy considered this. "Maybe," he said again, seemingly unwilling to agree with him. Perhaps on principle.

Harry was confident he was right though. It made perfect sense to him. Malfoy left him alone after that and Harry resumed his watch. One mystery down, he thought, pleased.

Sometime later, Ron and Hermione returned. He could see their rucksacks were filled moderately with provisions. "How's the leg, mate?" Harry asked, watching Ron limp along towards the tent.

Ron looked down, making a show of bending it. "It's getting there," he said, giving his thigh a light slap.

"He's doing loads better Harry," Hermione said, smiling. "I barely had to help, it was just on the way back-"

"Yeah, it started cramping up," Ron finished for her. "Good thing I had my little crutch here..." and he leaned his arm atop Hermione's head, striking a funny pose with his other hand on a jutting hip. She laughed, rolling her eyes and slapping his arm away.

They went inside to eat. During their meal of eggs, bread and tea, Ron pulled out his old radio. He twirled the dial about, trying to find a program that wasn't ripe with Ministry of Magic propaganda. Failing this, he flipped it to music instead, and Christmas carols played quietly in the background.

"We saw three separate groups of Snatchers Harry," Hermione said, sipping from her cup. "It's like they're recruiting new members every day."

"It's that reward the Ministry is promising them," Ron said confidently, through a full mouth of bread, "it's got people coming out in droves."

"Oh, you saw your brothers out there, eh Weasley? Strapped for cash?" Malfoy commented, laying back on his bunk, practicing small spells with his new wand. "Ready to turn you in for a bit of gold?"

Ron turned his head sharply, glaring over at him. He seemed to know Malfoy had said something rude and he growled, "Stuff it, Malfoy!"

Malfoy sat up immediately. "Yeah? Come and make me-"

"Shut up!" Harry ordered, fed-up with it.

Malfoy gave a sneer, but fell silent. As he laid back down, resuming his little firework show, Ron stared daggers in his direction. The tension between the two remained palpable. Harry was quietly grateful Ron chose not to ask for a translation for all the Parseltongue barbs aimed in his direction and he wondered how the four of them were going to survive in the same tent together. It was a different dynamic now that Malfoy had a wand, there was no denying it. Before, he hadn't been much of a threat, just a bit of a nuisance. Like a poisonous snake without fangs.

Well, now he had his fangs back.

Harry still wasn't sure if he'd made the right choice, letting Malfoy keep the wand... but every time he came back to same thing. Malfoy had decided to run out into the forest to try and find him. Alone. He'd saved Harry's life.

So, though he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea, he would at least give Malfoy the chance to earn his trust. For now, anyway. Even if Malfoy seemed determined to sabotage himself every step of the way with that piss-poor attitude of his.

"You know Potter," Malfoy suddenly spoke-up in a drawling voice, a stark contrast to just a moment ago, when he'd sounded angry enough to cast an Unforgiveable, "that symbol you're so obsessed with? The Deathly Hallows?"

Harry looked over. "What about it?"

"I've just realized I've seen it before," he said, "it clicked in my head, just now."

"Where?" Harry asked, interest piqued by the unexpected statement.

"In a little book I doubt you've read. It was decent. My mum and I were provided it by our Healer back when we were with the Order, and with nothing else to do I probably read it half a dozen times or so, it's really quite an interesting read-"

"What's the book Malfoy?" he interrupted, growing impatient with the back-story. Ron and Hermione were looking curiously at them.

"What's he saying?" Hermione asked, eyes going back and forth between them.

"Hold on," then unconsciously slipping back into Parseltongue: "the book Malfoy?"

"Rita Skeeter's new best seller, I'm sure you've heard of it? _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_?"

Harry felt distaste and anger welling up in him at the mention of that woman's name. Not to mention her nauseating book. His face must have been showing how he felt because Ron asked him, "What's the matter?"

Harry told them what Malfoy had said. "Oh!" Hermione surprised him by jumping to her feet, running across the tent and over to her bag. "Harry, I completely forgot! When we were at Bathilda Bagshot's- but when we got back, you two were hurt and Malfoy was- anyway I forgot all about it! I haven't even looked at it yet." She turned back to them, the infamous book clasped in her hands. Harry could see Dumbledore's picture was on the cover, looking ill-tempered, out of sorts and very old. "I got it from her sitting room. Where did you notice the symbol Malfoy?" she asked, going over to his bunk, rifling through the pages herself.

Malfoy grabbed it from her without bothering to sit up. "Do you often pilfer things from people's homes you're visiting?" he asked idly.

When Hermione glanced over at Harry for a translation, he just shook his head.

Malfoy took his time flipping through the pages until he was about halfway. Then he pointed, handing it back. "There."

Hermione lifted the book up to her nose, peering down at whatever Malfoy had indicated. "I don't see anything, it just looks like-" She made a noise of frustration, pulling out her wand, "_Lumos_!" Then: "Oh! There it is! Yes, it's looks like the symbol..." She turned, going to sit back down next to Ron while Harry moved his chair closer.

She held her finger to the page, her wand still shedding light upon it. "See? He's right."

Harry leaned over, twisting his neck to get a better view. There was a photograph of a letter Dumbledore had written. Harry recognized the headmaster's long, slanted writing. He scanned his eyes downward where Dumbledore had put his signature. For a moment he had no idea what she was talking about, but, looking more closely with the aid of her lit wand, he saw that Dumbledore had replaced the 'A' of Albus with a tiny version of the same triangular mark that Lovegood had said was the sign of the Deathly Hallows.

Ron spoke up, "It _does_ look like it."

Harry agreed.

"Hmm." Hermione was looking thoughtful as she put her wand away. "That means this symbol links Godric's Hallow, Grindelwald, and now-"

"Dumbledore," Harry finished. Dumbledore had been the one piece missing before Harry could really take it seriously, but now, he had it. There it was, in Dumbledore's own signature. "All three of them. You were right Hermione, this is important!"

She looked conflicted. "Well, I don't know about that, the Deathly Hallows is just a story. A morality tale, like we said-"

"What about the Elder wand, remember? The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny? Those were real wands used by real wizards," Harry pointed out, growing excited, "how do you know they weren't the same one?"

Hermione's eyebrows were drawn together in consternation, having a hard time taking it seriously. Ron looked undecided, like he'd be willing to go either way.

"Why would he put that there, Hermione?" Harry asked, once again pointing at the signature. "Right there, he wrote it himself, _Albus Dumbledore_-"

The little radio at Ron's side suddenly filled with a loud static, interrupting him, the music cutting out to the voice of someone familiar.

"_... and that's why we must keep our heads up, and be careful! Snatchers, __in groups, in nearly every city and every forest,__ the Ministry, Death Eaters, __and __even Vampires have been spotted recently, __roaming the countryside! __ Yes, t__hey're all out there. Looking for people like us! __To bring down Dumbledore supporters! __We, the __Anti-You-Know-Who'ers!_"

Harry and the others stared down at the radio in shock. Even Malfoy was looking over, frowning in confusion. "Is that Lee Jordan?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I think it is! Wow, that's ace!" Ron exclaimed with a pumping fist before Hermione shushed him. Jordan was talking again.

"_And that leads us__ to __our last message of this broadcast: we have to keep strong! P__eople who are actually on the side of Harry Potter and refuse to listen to the bullshit-_"

"_Oy, come on River, __the__ wee ones__ might be listening,_" another voice said, sounding amused.

"_All right then, refuse to listen to the __**rubbish**__ the Ministry is feeding out to us, we have to stick together, and look out for one another!_"

"_Well listeners, t__hat's t__he end of another Potterwatch. We want to personally wish you all a Happy Christmas. We know it hasn't been an easy year, but folks, it can only go up from here, eh?"_

"_We hope!_" the other voice chimed in again.

"_We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again as we keep being raided, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials. Our next password'll be 'Shacklebolt.' Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night._"

The radio turned itself off with a twirl of the controls, the little lights fading out.

"Wow," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Harry, you must have said the current password by accident! 'Albus Dumbledore'!"

"Yeah. I wish we'd gotten to hear more of it," Harry said regretfully, still gazing at the tiny speakers. Though the message had been very brief, it had been nice to hear that people were really supporting him. And he'd nearly forgotten other people were out there, mounting their own resistance, doing whatever they could to stop Voldemort in their own ways. Jordan's voice echoed in his ears. "I wonder who that other person was?"

"Sounded almost like George," Ron said. "Hey did you hear what they called it? Potterwatch!"

"It's brilliant," Harry said with a laugh.

"You know, I had no idea it was Christmas yet. I think we're doing really well, I mean, there's only two Horcruxes left!" Hermione said, smiling up at them. She seemed very happy, and she closed the book on her lap, grabbing each of their hands. "Happy Christmas!"

"Yes, such a happy Christmas this," came a most sarcastic drawl from behind them.

Harry returned her sentiment, ignoring the storm cloud of moodiness that was Malfoy. But the book drew his eye. Why had Dumbledore used that sign in his own name, if it hadn't meant something? Why had he left Hermione _The Tales of Beetle Bard_, if not to lead her to the symbol? He, the snitch, which wouldn't open and could very well house the Resurrection Stone? These questions filled his head as Ron and Hermione's happy conversation about the radio broadcast carried on. He decided to let it drop for now, joining them in the Christmas cheer.

* * *

_This chapter is named after a song by Avicii_


End file.
